Taking Charge
by Drauchenfyre
Summary: My first multi-chapter fic- what happens when the adults get off their butts and solve the problems of the wizarding world rather than depending on a clueless eleven-year-old and his friends?
1. And So It Begins

**Taking Charge**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Characters: Samuel Glyphs, Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape

Summary: Dumbledore may be senile, but what excuse does the rest of the staff have?

STORY:

"TROLL! IN THE DUNGEON! Thought you ought to know..."

And with that, John Quirinus Quirrell faceplanted on the floor. A second later, the Hall exploded in screams and panic. A Cannonblast charm from Dumbledore's wand silenced the screaming students.

"Prefects, lead your Houses back to the dormitories..."

"BELAY THAT!"

Anybody with military experience would recognize that tone- a commanding bellow that veteran sergeants mastered to _demand _obedience... which of course meant only a handful of Muggleborn "army brats" recognized the tone Samuel Glyphs, Runes Professor, used to cut across Dumbledore's orders.

Fury clearly written on his face, Glyphs rounded on the venerable Headmaster. "Are you INSANE, Albus? A teacher comes tearing in here screaming about a troll in the dungeons, and you want to send students through the halls? Did you forget that both Slytherin and Hufflepuff have their dorms in the Dungeons? Did I miss the part where having a Prefect badge requires the ability to take down a full-grown Troll?"

Albus, a little rattled, nodded and said, "Yes, of course, Samuel, you are right. How would you suggest we proceed?"

Glyphs looked around the room with a steely gaze, seeing the hope and fear in those eyes. This was what the Marine Corps trained him for- taking charge in a crisis. "Prefects- head count, NOW! I want the name of every student not in this Hall, and I want them five minutes ago! We are in a large room with limited access, we keep the students here and guard the entrances. Septima, Aurora, you stand watch at the back doors. Hagrid!" Glyphs picked up his chair and transfigured it into a heavy war hammer, which he tossed to the gentle half-giant. "You have the main door, Hagrid. That troll gets in here over _your _dead body, got me?"

Hagrid, looking grimmer than any student ever saw before, nodded and marched to his post. Glyphs turned to the ethereal teacher in the seat next to him. "BINNS! RISE AND SHINE!" The ghostly professor started awake, and looked his living colleague in confusion. "Troll in the dungeon. Organize the ghosts and sweep the school. I want locations on _every _living being in this castle pronto!" Binns nodded and bolted across the room, the other attending ghosts drifting into his wake.

"Poppy, check on Quirrell." Madam Pomfrey nodded, already halfway there. "PREFECTS, WHERE'S MY COUNT?"

Adrian Pucey called out, "Slytherin, present and accounted for!"

Penelope Clearwater called out, "Ravenclaw, all present!"

'Don't-Call-Me-Nymphadora' Tonks added, "Hufflepuff, all present and accounted for!"

With a muttered curse, Percy Weasley called, "I'm down a first year-Hermione Granger isn't here!"

Harry Potter, in a panic, called out, "She's in the second floor girl's loo! She was crying because of something Ron called her after class!"

Samuel Glyphs almost cursed as well, but held his tongue in a room full of students. "Albus, Filius- you're our best duelists. When the ghosts report back with the troll's location, you go after him. Min, Sev- we've got a student to retrieve."

With that, Samuel Glyphs vaulted over the table and hit the ground running, closely followed by Professors McGonagall and Snape, all three with their wands out.

SCENE BREAK

The three teachers glided through the halls, intent on their destination. Severus felt compelled to speak. "Samuel, I know we've had our differences, but I was impressed by your tactical thinking on the fly back there. Where did you learn that?"

Glyphs smirked at the Potions Master and replied, "Allow me to re-introduce myself- Gunnery Sergeant Samuel J. Glyphs, United States Marine Corps Retired. I served ten years in the Mage Division as a Ward-Breaker before my medical discharge. Trust me- I wouldn't have made Gunny if I hadn't learned to lead in a crisis."

The conversation halted as they rounded a corner into a wall of stench. All three were startled at the sight of a full-grown mountain troll entering a room dead ahead of them.

"Min, please tell me that door isn't the one I think it is."

"I'm afraid so, Samuel. That's the bathroom that Miss Granger is supposed to be in."

"Damn," hissed Glyphs. "Okay, Sev- you and I will distract the beast. Min, once we have its attention, you slip past us, get Miss Granger, and get her back to the Great Hall. Let's go!"

At a full run, Glyphs launched a Reductor Curse, turning the door to matchsticks, then launched a transfiguration at the club in the troll's raised hand.

The troll, hearing the crash, turned and saw wizards running at it. He roared and raised his club-arm again.

Snape smirked and said, "And you'll do what, exactly- hit me with that-_fish?_" The troll glimsed its club, now transfigured into a large, floppy tuna. It looked as confused as the troll holding it.

With a cry of "_Lumos Maximus!_", Glyphs launched a burst of light into the beast's eyes, blinding it as McGonagall and Miss Granger slipped out the door.

Samuel's eyes darted around. "Sev, remind me- what's above this room?"

Severus had to think a moment: "An empty classroom, hasn't been used in years, why-?" Then the answer clicked in his head. "You _cannot _be serious."

Samuel smirked, "You'd rather get in a bare-knuckle fight with a troll?" His wand was already pointing at the ceiling above the troll.

Snape blinked, pointed his wand up, and muttered, "Fair enough..."

With a simultaneous cry of "**BOMBARDA!**", the two professors turned and dove through the door as the ceiling collapsed on the troll, crushing its skull (and parts south).

Picking themselves up, both men dusted themselves off, then looked at the rubble-filled room.

"Glad I don't have to clean that up."

"Wise-arse."

An explosion from the direction of the Entrance Hall grabbed their attention.

"Please tell me that's the Weasley Twins playing with fireworks."

"Since when are we _that _lucky?"

Both men turned and ran for the Entrance Hall.

SCENE BREAK

The two arrived in the Entrance Hall to a bizarre sight. Quirrell, sans turban, was hovering in the middle of the hall, a deformed face growing from the back of his head as he successfully batted aside spells from both Dumbledore and Flitwick. Lawrence Kettleburn, the Care of Magic Creatures teacher, was crumpled against the far wall, (hopefully) unconscious.

"Crap. An active possession. This is gonna get messy." A pair of foot-wide shuriken slid out of Glyphs's sleeves into his empty hands.

"You're going to _kill _him?"

"Quirrell's already dead, his body hasn't gotten the owl yet. Work your way over to Larry and check if he's still alive."

Snape nodded and moved to the left. Glyphs launched the shuriken in his left hand, quickly followed by his right.

'Quirrell' must have heard or felt the disturbance, and ducked away at the last second, spinning toward the Runemaster with a snarl, and launched a fusillade of nasty-looking curses, forcing Glyphs to dive behind a pillar. Glyphs let loose a sharp whistle between his teeth.

Responding to the embedded magical commands, Samuel's Return Blades arced around and returned to him by the most expedient course- one Blade lancing through the Defense Professor's wand-arm, severing it just above the elbow. The Blades thudded, one after the other, into the pillar Samuel hid behind.

Scrambling with his off-hand for his falling wand, the possessed professor left himself wide-open for the combined attacks of Flitwick and Dumbledore, and quickly was bound and unconscious.

Wands trained on the bound professor, Albus, Filius and Samuel approached him. A dark cloud began to rise from his form, moving towards Dumbledore. _'You will not defeat me, Albus Dumbledore. I am Immortal, I am unstoppable!'_

Glyphs snapped his wand into an almost-forgotten movement and declared, "**SANCTUS LUXOR!"** A blinding white light pierced the cloud, causing an unearthly scream, as the cloud turned and bolted out the door.

Samuel Glyphs, watched it retreat, then turned to the other Professors and growled, "Anyone else wanna find and beat the hell out of whatever idiot taught Voldemort how to make a Horcrux?"

END


	2. Who Built This Mess?

**Taking Charge REVISED**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

A/N: Well, here we go, my first attempt at a Chapter 2...

A/N 2: Original spell from last chapter- Sanctus Luxor- literally, 'sacred light'. Causes pain and damage to any dark-aligned creature or spirit, but much less powerful than a more targeted spell (like a Patronus against a Dementor).

Chapter 2: Who Built This Mess?

***STORY***

_Nov. 2, 1991_

_A Hidden Chamber in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry _

Headmaster Dumbledore tapped the blood-red lockstone with his wand, pausing to allow the castle to identify and recognize his magical signature. Once the stone glowed, the wall before him parted, revealing a rough-hewn stone passage into a room within Hogwarts few had ever entered:

The Ward Room.

Specifically, the chamber which housed the school's main Wardstone, the focal point of all the castle's wards.

Upon entering the room, Albus at first could not find his American-born great-nephew, Runemaster Samuel Glyphs. The air was thick with clouds of glowing runic symbols and Arithmantic equations, as the genius professor tried to decipher the castle security system.

"Samuel?"

"Over here, Uncle Al."

Albus moved toward the voice, only to be surprised that the American was not alone. Bathsheba Babbling, Samuel's second-year apprentice from Sri Lanka, and Septima Vector, Professor of Arithmancy, stood on either side of the man, gathered around a drafting table as all three stared at a wall covered in glowing blue equations.

Albus glanced at the wall, but quickly realized that, while he had gotten Outstandings in his Ancient Runes and Arithmancy NEWTs back in the day, the equations the three geniuses were studying were well beyond his studies in those particular fields. Well, they were theoreticians, Albus had always been better at the active magics, like Transfiguration, and Alchemy.

Albus cleared his throat and asked, "What are we looking at?"

Miss Babbling muttered under her breath, "A God-awful mess, that's what."

Samuel and Septima smirked at each other, before Septima replied, "While not the way I would have put it, she's right. This is the most chaotic ward schema it has ever been my misfortune to study."

"Samuel?"

"Basically, Uncle Al, when the Founders converted the old Ravenclaw family castle into the first real school of magic in northern Europe, they put in this Keystone to manage all of the wards and the wardstones they were tied to. Now, give them credit, _they're _not the ones who screwed it up. They had a well thought out and well-executed ward scheme that did the job."

"The problem started after their time," Septima took up the narration. "Every Headmaster from the first post-Founders Headmaster, Ansem the Wise, to your predecessor, Armando Dippet, made their own additions to the ward scheme, without any regard to what would interfere with what."

"As a result," continued Miss Babbling, "We have Dark Detectors interfering with Anti-Portkey wards, Monitor Wards which can't be monitored, and one I'm actually thankful for: a Weather Manipulation Ward which completely shuts down a Ward installed by Phineas Nigellus Black, meant to kill any Muggles or Muggleborns that crossed the Wardline."

"Lovely," Albus drolled, privately making a note to have words with Phineas's portrait when he returned to his office. "So, what _does_ function at this point?"

"An Anti-Apparition Ward..."

"That's a relief..."

"Kinda."

"'Kinda?'"

"It's functional most of the time, but it's struggling against this... _odd _reading, that looks like someone placed a curse on the school itself a few decades ago. Still trying to sort that equation out. But even when it's functioning, it's weak enough that a sufficiently powerful wizard- like you Albus, or Voldie when he had a body- could just blast through if they wanted to."

"What else is still functional?"

"Nothing. With all this interference, that's the only ward that's even partially functional. For all the security this ward scheme gives us, we might as well be holding class in the middle of a field and post the address to the Death Eaters ourselves."

"You mean Hogwarts is effectively defenseless?"

"And has been since before _you_ were a student here, never mind Headmaster."

"How can we fix it?"

"Right now, the three of us are drawing up a whole new ward scheme. Our only realistic option is to wipe out the old programme- not that it's working now- and build a whole new ward scheme from scratch."

"The problem," said Samuel, taking up Septima's narration, "is that that would take more power than the three of us put together have- more power than you have, even, Uncle Al. The only way we can pull this off is a Ritual Coven- Several witches and wizards focusing their magic into me, while I shape it into the wards."

"Why you, Samuel?"

"I'm the only certified Wardmaster you have on staff. Contracting it out runs the risk of the job falling to a covert Death Eater who leaves a back door for Dark Wizards and makes the whole project pointless. And I'm not suggesting this lightly, Uncle Al. After this, I'll probably be laid out for weeks. I've never channelled that much power before, and It'll do a number on me."

Albus studied his nephew. He had never had a child himself, and Adele, Samuel's mother, was Aberforth's only child. He shuddered to think how Abe would react to his only grandchild dying on his watch- Albus's brother still hadn't forgiven him for the death of their sister Ariana, and that was over a century ago.

Samuel looked over at the Headmaster, smiled, and said, "I know the risks, Uncle Al. Power-wise, I'm weaker than all the faculty, all the staff except Argus, and more than three-quarters of the student body. It's why I craft my weapons, and why I gravitate towards the more intellectual magics, instead of the expressive ones. Channeling that much power when I'm weak to begin with could kill me, but I've run the numbers three times and Sheba and 'Tima twice each. The risk is minimal. And even if I did die... well, I'd be with my Leona again, my kids and grandkids would carry on the family, and I'd know I did it for a good cause- protecting the children."

Septima changed the subject to alleviate the tension, "How's Lawrence?" Lawrence Kettleburn, the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, had been seriously hurt two days before, during a fight with a Voldemort-possessed Quirrell, a battle which ended with Quirrell dead and Voldemort's shade fleeing the grounds. Hagrid, the groundskeeper, was covering his classes- after, of course, strongly-worded warnings from Dumbledore, McGonagall and Glyphs to teach Kettleburn's syllabus and _nothing else._

Albus cleared his throat, looking grateful for the change, and replied, "Poppy and Severus are both convinced he will be back to himself in a week. The injuries are severe, but Severus treated him in time that he _will _recover."

"Good to hear. Any luck on a new Defense Professor?"

"Alas, no, Septima. Every year it becomes more difficult, what with the talk of a 'curse' on the position."

"Honestly, Uncle Al, I don't know why you make such a big deal about this. Contact Amelia at the DMLE and get her to loan you an Auror, maybe on medical leave or nearing retirement. Nobody in that department is doing anything so important that they can't take a year off to teach the community's children to defend themselves. That argument alone should get Amelia to agree."

Albus stopped and stared, openmouthed, at his nephew. Such a simple solution! "Why didn't I ever think of that?" he muttered to himself.

Samuel, hearing him, smirked and responded, "Two reasons- first, you were too close to the problem. Second, you were employing that brilliant mind of yours to come up with a more complex solution. Either one of those would have prevented you from easily seeing the easy solution right in front of your nose."

Albus rolled his eyes. Samuel was nearly as intelligent as Albus himself- if specializing in different fields- but sometimes, his grasp on the real world was much greater. If only he didn't enjoy rubbing Albus's nose in that from time to time.

"Well, for this Ritual Coven," began Septima, "it would be best if we used people with the highest Hammerstein indexes. All they need is raw power- Samuel will be the only one who needs any particular skill."

"Agreed," Glyphs replied. "Six power feeders, plus myself, giving us the magically powerful number of seven. Who should we use?"

Bathsheba consulted a clip-board on the drafting table in front of her. "In residence at the school- Faculty, staff and students- the six most powerful, in order, are Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Rubeus Hagrid, and Hermione Granger."

Albus and Samuel both raised an eyebrow at that, in an unintentional and uncanny imitation of each other. "Are you sure about that, Sheba? Not one, but _two _students in the top six power levels? Both of them firsties?"

"Indeed," she replied, "both have unusually high Hammersteins for their ages. Upon reaching full magical maturity, Potter will easily surpass Albus, and whether Granger will do the same is a coin toss- her and Albus's Hammerstein indexes will likely be within a couple points of each other."

"Well," Albus stated, "if we're going to do this, I'll need some time to train Mr. Potter and Miss Granger in power-feeding techniques. Shall we say, two weeks' time?"

"Probably should include Hagrid in those lessons as well, otherwise, sounds like a plan, Uncle Al."

"Good. In the meantime, Samuel, please meet me in my office after dinner tonight. There are a few things I wish to discuss with you."

"Will do."


	3. It's Your Own Damn Fault

**Taking Charge**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 3: It's Your Own Damn Fault

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore woke in what was, unfortunately, an all-too-familiar situation for him: disarmed, cocooned in rope, and hanging upside down from his office ceiling, being glared at by his familiar and his grand-nephew. Samuel cocked an eyebrow at Albus, twirling Albus's wand in his left hand. "Shall we try this again without the rough-and-tumble, Uncle Al? You're not as young as you used to be."

"How do you keep doing this to me?"

"Two simple reasons, Uncle Al- first, I know you. Better than anyone except Gramps. Even through that mass of facial hair, I can read you like a book. When I mentioned Horcruxes on Hallowe'en, you got that look you get when someone's been stealing your secrets. I came in here expecting an ambush. Chance favors the prepared mind, after all."

"Secondly, even after knowing me my whole life and working with me for thirty years, you still underestimate me. You make the common wizard assumption that, just because I'm magically weak, I'm easily defeated. You're a very powerful and talented amateur, Uncle Al, but I'm a trained Marine and Curse Breaker. Training will almost always make up the difference- especially when your opponent does half the work for you and gets cocky."

"Very well. If you'll help me down?"

"Not just yet, Uncle Al. Care to tell me why you're wielding something I thought you destroyed back in '45?" Samuel gestured with the odd-looking wand in his hand.

"I won it in battle. It is mine."

"Uncle Al, this thing is a menace! It spent centuries cutting a bloody swath through history. If it isn't destroyed, it'll end up in the hands of another Grindelwald, another Ghaleon. No, Albus, for the Greater Good, this ends here." Before Albus could say another word, Samuel brought up his other hand and cleanly snapped the Elder Wand in two.

Albus shook his head. It was like a fog clearing from his mind. He looked at his great-nephew and saw a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "Thought so. When I caught the damn thing, I could feel it trying to influence my mind."

"How...?"

"I'm esper-blind, remember? Immune to all mind magicks? It would take a hefty amount of power for me to even feel an attempt at a mind probe. It's been muddling your mind for decades, hasn't it?"

"Ye..yes. I..." A look of dawning horror came over his face. "Bloody buggering hell! Tell me I didn't bring the Philosopher's Stone into a castle full of children and set a Cerberus to guard it!"

"I would, but I'd be lying. Don't worry- no one's been hurt yet by Fluffy-"

"Fluffy?"

"Hagrid."

"Ah."

"We can disarm the traps and return the Stone to Master Flamel. We can fix things, and go forward wiser for the experience."

"Did I really abandon young Mr. Potter on the doorstep of his magic-hating Muggle aunt?"

"Don't know. That one you'd have to ask Min. You okay now? Is it safe for me to let you down?"

"Ye..yes. I have a lot of work to do, fixing my mistakes. I must find a better home for Mr. Potter, I must contact Nicholas about his Stone, I must..."

"Easy there, Uncle Al." Albus found himself sitting in his chair as the ropes around him dissolved. "I find writing it down helps me organize my thoughts." Samuel placed parchment, quill and ink in front of the Headmaster.

Samuel resumed his seat as Albus scratched out a to-do list. Ten minutes later, he sat back and looked at the length, a bit overwhelmed by it. Samuel, looking up from the Rubik's Cube he was idly playing with, spoke up. "No one can do everything alone, Uncle Al. A good leader has trusted followers he delegates to."

Albus nodded, "you are right, Samuel. And I believe you would be ideal for at least part of this list."

"The Horcrux issue?"

Albus again nodded.

"How long have you suspected him of having one?"

"Since that Hallowe'en in '81. He was destroyed- no body. Even magic leaves a corpse. He also spoke to his Death Eaters-"

"Including Sev."

"-yes, of mysterious rituals he used in an attempt to defeat death. How is it you know of them?"

Samuel chuckled, "Retired Curse Breaker, remember? That nasty piece of Necromancy has been around since the time of Ancient China, and spread all over. They crop up in tomb crawls every once in a while, so Curse Breakers need to know how to identify and destroy them."

"What can you tell me of them?"

"First of all, they're poorly understood here in the West. Outside of a secure library in Gringotts Geneva, only fragmentary works even made it as far as Persia, and most are poorly translated. The important bit is that Horcruxes do not make you immortal."

"Then what are they?"

"Something more akin to a safety net. A Horcrux will prevent an _unnatural _death- stabbing, poisoning, explosion-"

"A rebounding Killing Curse?"

"Exactly. In the event of an unnatural death, the Horcrux will tether the soul to the mortal realm in the form of a wraith- like the one we saw in the Entrance Hall. It will _not, _however, prevent you from growing old and dying peacefully in your sleep. If, for instance, you had thirty years left on your life expectancy, and created a Horcrux- you'd still only have thirty years left on your life expectancy. Moreover, if the wraith remains disembodied for too long- a couple decades, tops- it will dissipate, Horcrux or no. If he's been without a body of his own for a decade, he's racing a clock."

"Quirinus-"

"Was a temporary host. Make no mistake, hosting Voldie's wraith bought him some time, but Quirrell was dead the second he let in Voldie and gave him even partial control of his body. No coming back from active possession."

"Would having multiple Horcruxes, as I suspect Tom did, extend that time?"

"Multiples? Boy, Voldie _is _nuts. No, there are no benefits to having more than one- it's actually worse. All Horcruxes are connected to the original soul- and through it, each other- so having more than one can be a problem. There are rituals in the old manuscripts that allow you to destroy _all _Horcruxes crafted by a single individual as long as you have _one _of them in your possession. All having multiple Horcruxes does is give people more chances to cut your tether."

"How difficult is it to destroy a Horcrux?"

"Depends on if you want the vessel intact or not. If you don't care, it's easy. Basilisk venom is commonly used in the field. Under controlled circumstances, the Killing Curse, Phoenix Fire and Fiendfyre do the trick as well. If you need the vessel intact, there are rituals I could set up. I'd need to go over my old journals to refresh my memory on the details, though."

"What about a living Horcrux?"

"Impossible. To create a Horcrux vessel, the object must be subjected to a lengthy ritual which, among other things, destroys all non-Horcrux magic that could prevent it taking hold, rendering it magically inert. You take all the magic out of a wizard-"

"They'd be a Squib."

"No, they'd be _dead._ Magically inert is magically inert. Even Muggles have magic to give them life- they simply don't have enough to express it as spells like we do. You remove all the magic from a living being, it dies."

"But, Mr. Potter's scar-"

Samuel sat up abruptly. "What did you find? Dark Magic, or a soul fragment?"

"Both."

"FAWKES! Get Potter to the Infirmary, STAT! We'll need a surgical suite prepped quickly, I'll need my- MIMSY!"

A house-elf appeared, "You is calling Mimsy, Professor Sir?"

"Mimsy, get my exorcist kit from my quarters and meet us in the Hospital Wing. Tell Madame Pomfrey we have an inactive possession coming in and we need to deal with it, quick!"

"Yes sir, Professor Sir!" Mimsy and Fawkes vanished nearly simultaneously. Samuel rushed out the door, Albus close behind.

"Samuel, what is the rush?"

"Inactive possessions have a nasty habit of waking up when a person becomes more magically active- and Potter started school two months ago, Uncle Al. We need to get that filth out of him before it wakes up and we lose him."

TO BE CONTINUED

A/N: I know Glyphs seems central at the moment, but after the exorcism and the re-Warding of Hogwarts, he'll be out of action a while, and the story will be carried by others. Also, while this is in the Harry Potterverse, Harry and his friends aren't central in this story- the adults are. This is, in my opinion, the better way to deal with the problem- trained and experienced adults, not undertrained preteens, fixing the problems. Oh, and Mimsy is Samuel's personal elf.


	4. This Is REALLY Gonna Hurt

**Taking Charge**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 4: This is _REALLY _Gonna Hurt...

***STORY***

"Are you sure he'll be okay?"

"Miss Granger," Professor Samuel Glyphs replied, "I assure you I have successfully performed exorcisms in less-ideal situations than this." When Samuel had asked Fawkes to bring the best person from the school to offer moral and emotional support to Harry during his exorcism, the adults had been surprised that Gryffindor Tower's resident bookworm had been brought in response. When asked, Harry had responded that he'd apologized to Hermione on Hallowe'en for what he and the youngest Weasley boy had said to her. This had caused a blazing row betwixt the two boys, and currently they were not on speaking terms. Under Hermione's influence, Harry was now paying more attention to his studies, but only time would tell how big a difference that would make.

Harry was now strapped down to the table in the Operatory in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. A Ritual Containment Circle was being drawn around the table by Samuel's house-elf Mimsy, according to the directions in the book he had handed her. _If you want something magical done with millimetric precision, have a house-elf do it, _his old instructor, Edwin van Helsing, had told him, and thus far that wisdom had never failed him. Samuel, Poppy Pomfrey, Minerva McGonagall and Albus Dumbledore stood in the room as the Ancient Runes Professor instructed Miss Granger in her part in the ritual.

"Basically, Miss Granger, you're here for moral support. Fawkes, the Headmaster's phoenix familiar, has identified you as the person Harry currently trusts most, and phoenixes are never wrong on these matters. Now, he has a dormant fragment of a disembodied soul from a very Dark Wizard in his curse scar. We need to get it out of him before it awakens and tries to take him over."

"If this soul fragment has been there all this time, why are you just taking it out now?"

Samuel hated to do this to the girl, but what he knew of Albus's involvement in Harry's suffering made it more a stretch of the truth than an out-and-out lie. "Until now, Harry hasn't had the requisite level of trust with anyone in his life. His parents died when he was too young to remember them, his aunt, uncle and cousin were nasty, mean-spirited people his whole childhood, and he never had friends before coming to Hogwarts. You are the key to this, Miss Granger. You have to show him kindness and support, hold his hand through this, let him know you're there for him."

After the girl nodded and went over to take Mr. Potter's hand, Samuel turned to the other adults. "Now this will be tough for all of us. A mother of four who was exorcised of a dormant spirit some years ago once said that an exorcism is the closest a man can ever come to the pain of childbirth. Worse, we can't give him any painkillers, magical or Muggle, until the fragment is out of him, or it might screw up the ritual and awaken the fragment early."

"Should we be doing this then, Samuel?" Minerva asked, worry etched on her normally-stern face.

"Eventually, Min, the fragment will wake on its own if we leave it in there. We need it out under controlled conditions, because if it awakens and takes control of Mr. Potter, we will have active possession. You all saw what happened to Quirinus when Voldie's shade left his body." Quirinus Quirrell had died two days before when Voldemort's tattered soul had been forced from his body, his face frozen in a rictus of pain. "No one survives an exorcism from active possession."

"Just like no one's ever survived the Killing Curse?" Poppy asked sardonically.

Samuel smirked in reply, "Touche, but I don't plan on trying to see if Mr. Potter can hit _that _jackpot twice. We'll get this out of him, and he'll need a little time off to recover- we'll need to either replace Mr. Potter or push back the Ward ritual a couple weeks, Uncle Al."

Albus nodded, wondering how long it would take to undo the damage his neglect had inflicted on this young man. He looked up at Samuel's chuckle. Samuel had been looking at Potter and Granger. The young girl was talking quietly to the boy, stroking his hair in an obviously soothing manner. "Samuel?"

"Oh, nothing, Uncle Al. They just remind me of my son Nalshay and his wife Natasha when they were still in their 'just friends' stage."

"Hmmm. I always wondered if 'the power the Dark Lord knows not' was love..."

"Don't get me started on Prophecies, Uncle Al. You're well-enough versed in Greek history to know the story of Oedipus."

"The young man prophesied to kill his father and marry his mother?"

"Had either Oedipus or Laius ignored the prophecy, it probably would never have come to pass. Instead, each acted upon their personal interpretation of the prophecy and attempted to prevent it. In the end, Oedipus _did _kill Laius, and _did _marry Jocasta, though he did not know them for his father or mother at the time. I've been aware of several prophecies that came to pass, and every one of them involved people either trying to bring them about, or trying to prevent them. People taking actions they wouldn't have if they'd never heard the prophecy in question. Prophecy is powered by belief. Refuse to believe it, and it's nothing but empty words from a rambling nut."

Albus nodded, saddened by the possibility that his actions trying to protect the Potters from the Prophecy may have led to their demise.

"It's time."

The four adults took their places at the four compass points of the room, as Fawkes settled onto Harry's chest and began to sing a song of rejuvenation. Professor Glyphs began chanting in a language that sounded vaguely familiar to Hermione. Having grown up Catholic, and studied her magic textbooks, she was well familiar with Latin, and this wasn't it. It sounded... _older. _Finally, he switched over to English: _"Foul spirit which inhabits this vessel, begone from this place and forsake thy false claim to this boy. I cast thee out, never to return!" _Beams of white light connected the four adults, then converged on Harry and Hermione in the center.

And Harry screamed.

Hermione gazed on the slumbering form of her friend on the hospital bed before her. Once the shadowy murk had been cast from his scar, and destroyed by the combined magic of the four adults, Madam Pomfrey had poured several potions down Harry's throat. A few minutes later, she pronounced his condition stable. He would need time and rest to recover from the trauma, but the physical and magical damage would be completely gone within three days.

Whether the mental and emotional trauma could be recovered from, remained to be seen.

Hermione vowed that she would stand by Harry, to help and protect him, no matter what. She had had precious few friends in her life, and was therefore fiercely protective of the ones she made. Feeling the presence of another behind her, Hermione turned and saw Professor Glyphs standing there, looking more than a bit tired himself.

"How's the patient, Nurse Granger?"

Hermione snorted at the Professor's little jest. "He's sleeping peacefully. Madam Pomfrey thinks he'll be fine- physically, at least."

"He'll need his friends to look after him. This kind of thing is hard to recover from. Show him love- even if it's only the love of a good friend, or a bossy older sister. Love is the great healer, Miss Granger."

"What was that language you were chanting in during the ritual, Professor? It didn't sound like Latin."

"A language that was old, and powerful, before Latin even existed, Miss Granger. For truly powerful exorcism and ritual magic, one must turn to the Ancient Tongues- my language of preference is Hebrew."

Hermione realized then where she heard the language before- in primary school, she'd had a neighbor and friend named Becky Goldman who was Jewish. She had gone to Temple with her for one of the nights of Hanukkah to see what it was like, and the Rabbi had spoken in that same tongue. Sadly, Becky had moved away the summer after second grade, and Hermione hadn't had any friends after that. That was the start of the loneliness that led her into books and solitude.

Glyphs turned and said, "Come on, Miss Granger, I have been instructed to walk you back to Gryffindor Tower before turning in myself, and I'd really like to do so before I get much more tired."

Hermione took one last look at Harry's sleeping form, then turned and followed the Professor from the Hospital Wing.


	5. Rituals and Stones

**Taking Charge**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 5- Rituals and Stones

_November 21, 1991_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

All was in readiness. The Ritual Circle was drawn. The six Power Feeders were assembled, ready to pump their magic into the Wardmaster, Samuel Jason Glyphs. He had the new ward schema locked into his mind, ready to form the new shielding around the school. He looked to his apprentice, Bathsheba Babbling, and nodded.

"Collapse the old wards."

Bathsheba nodded, turned to her friend, Professor Septima Vector, and they etched a magical script over the Ward Stone. As the old wards collapsed, both women stepped outside the circle.

Their job was done.

Raising his red maple wand in his left hand, he nodded.

"Begin the feed."

In a circle around him, Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, Rubeus Hagrid, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger began feeding streams of raw magic to the man in the center.

Samuel's wand began to blur, his movements quick, precise, and flowing, like watching a master at work- which, in a sense, they were. As ward after ward leapt from his wand to encompass the school and tie itself to the Master Ward Stone, his eyes began to glow a soft, white light. Feeling the burn of the massive amount of magic coursing through him, Samuel cast on. He could feel the damage. Somehow, despite his calculations, he had known deep down it would come to this.

It didn't matter.

He was a Marine, a Protector.

He knew sacrifice.

This would be his Magnum Opus, his greatest work.

He would give everything he had to protect Hogwarts.

As the last Ward leapt from his wand and tied itself to the Ward Stone and the Headmaster, Samuel lowered his wand. Seeing the signal, all six witches and wizards broke off the magic feed. Samuel, however, continued to glow.

"Samuel?"

Glyphs turned to his great-uncle. "It's my time, Uncle Al. It's too late to stop the destruction. I did what I had to, to protect them. There's an envelope on my desk. It contains my will and letters to my family. Take charge of it for me." Samuel gave a sad smile, the magic flared-

-and Samuel Jason Glyphs vanished from this world, into the next great adventure.

SCENE BREAK

_November 25, 1991_

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore sat at his desk, contemplating the box which lay upon it. Its contents, unexplained in the will, were all his great-nephew Samuel had left him. He had been putting off opening it, afraid that, by opening it, he would confirm in the deepest part of his mind that that brilliant man was truly gone forever. With a sigh, Albus steeled himself and opened the box.

Inside, he found an ordinary-looking blue crystal with a faint glow, and a folded parchment. Opening the parchment, he saw his nephew's messy scrawl.

_Uncle Al,_

_If you're reading this, I've preceded you into what you call the Next Great Adventure. I'm sorry. I can only hope that I died well, protecting the innocent and striking a blow against the darkness. The stone in the box is my gift to you. I know how much you value my counsel (even when you ignore it), so I made this parting gift to you. The stone is a Soul Stone, which I completed on September 1, 1991. If you take it to a friend of mine, Capelle Zabini, she can turn it into magical paint which will then be used to create a Living Portrait of me, similar to the Headmaster portraits in your office. You will have my counsel for as long as you wish it, but I hope you listen to my portrait more than you listened to me!_

_Farewell, Uncle Al. Know that wherever I am, I'll be here waiting for you when you join me, Mom, Dad, Leona and Aunt Ariana in your Next Great Adventure. Know that if I made this choice, I made it willingly, and will go on with an unburdened soul and a clear conscience._

_Nitwit. Blubber. Oddment. Tweak._

_GSgt. Samuel Jason Glyphs, USMC (Ret.)_

_Semper Fidelis_

Albus chuckled sadly at the note's conclusion, then picked up the Soul Stone, gazing at it. "You always were prepared for the worst, weren't you, Samuel?" Albus rose from his seat and headed for the Floo. He had a portrait to commission.

CHAPTER END


	6. Darkness Hunting

**Taking Charge**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter Six: Darkness Hunting

_December 1, 1991_

_Hogwarts Ward Room_

Albus Dumbledore frowned at the equations displayed on the wall before him. His Professor of Arithmancy, Septima Vector, had called him down here to assess the readouts on the Dark Detection Ward that was part of the school's new ward schema. Standing with Septima and her colleague, newly-minted Runesmistress Bathsheba Babbling, he didn't like what he was seeing.

The map-like images of Hogwarts' multiple levels contained far too many dark spots for his liking. True, most were concentrated in Slytherin House, but there were readouts everywhere- even the Hufflepuffs had a half-dozen mystery Dark Artifacts in their dorms and Common Room.

This was going to take forever.

He had already sent a general summons to his faculty- they were all to assemble here, so they could co-ordinate their response to this mess that had developed over the decades that the old ward schema had been largely useless.

The door behind Albus opened, and his Depute, Minerva McGonagall (the only other faculty member who could open the door) led the other faculty into the room: Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout, Severus Snape, Aurora Sinistra, Lawrence Kettleburn, Charity Burbage, Sybil Trelawney, and Senior Auror Gawain Robards, on loan from the DMLE whilst on medical leave.

Albus looked around and sighed. "Cuthbert has not consented to join us?"

Filius snorted. "That would require him to change his routine, Albus. I doubt he knows anything at this point except for his lectures."

Albus nodded. The clearing of his mind that came with the destruction of the Elder Wand had caused him to realize that Cuthbert Binns was one of multiple professors he had at the moment who was completely unsuited for their job. He would need to start a 'house cleaning' soon. He already had found several qualified people, but was waiting for the Christmas Hols to make most of the changes in personnel, believing it to be less disruptive than in the middle of term.

Robards took one look at the map behind the Headmaster and cursed under his breath. "Tell me that's not the Dark Detector display behind you, Headmaster."

"I am afraid that it is, Gawain. As you can see, we have a bit of a situation."

"'A bit of a situation'? Sweet Merlin on a manticore, Albus, do you practice that level of understatement in the mirror?" Septima eye-rolled.

A chuckle rippled through the assembled professors. Albus's gift for understatement surpassed even the legendary British 'stiff upper lip' that was world-famous in the Muggle world.

"Be that as it may," Albus ploughed on, "we will have our hands full trying to cleanse the Dark Artifacts that have accumulated in ths castle whilst the old wards were nonfunctional. Severus," he turned to his greatest disappointment on the staff, "as the greatest accumulation is within the Slytherin dormitories, you will not be in charge of any of this. As Professors Robards, Sinistra and Vector are all Slytherin Alumni, they shall be cleansing the Dungeons." Severus darkened with anger, but wisely held his tongue.

"Minerva, Pomona and Filius will each be attending their Houses. The rest of us shall divide up the remainder of the castle. I shall be starting in the Trophy Room, Bathsheba in the Great Hall, Charity in the Infirmary, Sybil in the Astronomy Tower, Lawrence in the Main Faculty Lounge."

"Now, we should begin at once. Severus, a moment after the others leave."

The remainder of the faculty filed out to their assignments as Albus glared at the dour ex-Death Eater. Once the door closed behind them, he spoke to the now-squirming Professor. "I gave you a simple task ten years ago, Severus. You were to curb the darker impulses of your charges, lead them away from the Dark decisions that many of their parents made, and show them back on the path of the Light. You have failed- Utterly. You have abused the House Points system and detention system in a spiteful effort at vengeance against old school grudges. Mr. Potter is not the only one you have so persecuted- simply the most egregious abuse. You have failed to teach in an acceptable manner- resulting in fewer students receiving Potions qualifications than at any time since the introduction of OWL and NEWT standardized testing. This is particularly troubling, as both the Auror and Healer Academies require a Potions NEWT for acceptance. I have tried to be patient with you, Severus, but I can no longer turn a blind eye to your transgressions. You shall be released with cause from your contract on the first day of the Christmas Holidays. Until then, I shall be covering your duties as Potions Professor personally. Your permanent replacement shall start on the first of the year. Aurora Sinistra, as the seniormost Slytherin Alumnus on the faculty, shall be assuming your role as Head of Slytherin effective immediately. I suggest you take this time to seek alternative employment, Severus. Now, get out of my sight. Do not seek revenge against any student or staff at this school, Severus, or you will be ringing in the new year in a hospital bed at St. Mungo's- or Azkaban."

Severus seethed. He knew not why Albus had changed so abruptly a month ago, but knew that he was on thin ice. All that had protected him from Azkaban was the Headmaster's word. That word, it seemed, was now gone. A change of country might be in order.

END CHAPTER


	7. The Snake Pit

**Taking Charge**

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter Seven: The Snake Pit

Albus Dumbledore sat wearily in his School Healer's office, trying to figure out where it had all fallen apart. He was dealing with the aftermath of a horrible situation. A situation which led to students in a firefight with Aurors, and fatalities on both sides.

It had started with the purge on Dark Artifacts in the school. Aurora Sinistra, Septima Vector, and Gawain Robards had gone down to the Slytherin Dorms to begin the confiscation of all Dark objects in the House of Snakes. They had barely begun with the Common Room when Marcus Flint, Sixth Year Quidditch Captain, had roared in rage and fired a Bludgeoning Hex into Septima Vector's back. Robards, ever the Auror, turned and fired a Body-Bind as he hit a sequence on the Auror badge in his pocket, signifying 'Auror in distress'.

The fact that the distress call originated within Hogwarts saw Director Amelia Bones rushing to the rescue with every Auror she could get hold of in a hurry. They arrived at the entrance of the Slytherin Dorms to find the entrance reduced to rubble, and Professor Sinistra, the unconscious Professor Vector, and several frightened Slytherin firsties huddled behind the cover of said rubble. Of Robards, there was no sign.

Aurora quickly brought Amelia up to speed as several Hogwarts faculty came rushing up in response to the noise. Marcus Flint, as well as several other upper years from the traditionally 'Dark' families, had tried to prevent them from making the confiscations. Severus Snape, not yet having finished packing, offered to enter the Snake Pit and try to talk his former students into standing down. He then handed his wand to Bones and entered the Common Room.

Five minutes later, amid cries of "Blood Traitor!", Severus's tattered corpse hit the far wall.

This was the spark. Despite Amelia's shouted orders to 'hold position and do not fire', several of the more volatile Aurors charged in, wands blazing. The rebelling Upper Years fought back, until it happened. Flint, having acquired several vials of an exploding potion, was rearing back from behind their cover to toss one grenade-style, when Auror Dawlish pegged him with a Bludgeoning Hex, knocking him down and causing him to drop the vial behind their cover.

The explosion killed sixteen students, including all nine Seventh Years, and three Aurors, including Dawlish. Twenty-two more students and five Aurors were now in the Hospital Wing recovering from their injuries, under the watchful eyes of Poppy Pomfrey and several hastily-drafted Healers from St. Mungo's.

In the aftermath, they had found Gawain Robards's burnt corpse in the middle of the Common Room.

Twenty-one dead, including Severus, because Severus had allowed Slytherin House to run rampant and unchecked for too long, and had violently resisted their first effort to bring them back under control.

This tragedy was likely to be the big scandal that would tear at the heart of their community. Fortunately, the recording crystals in the Common Room had not been damaged until the blast itself, and both the Ministry, the Wizengamot, and the Board of Governors had viewed the entire episode, from the three Professors entering and explaining the search and seizure, until Flint dropped the fatal explosive. Lucius Malfoy, in particular, had been incensed at Caradoc Selwyn, Sixth-Year Prefect, casting the Cruciatus on his son Draco for his fearful crying, before Gregory Goyle had grabbed the blonde firsty and dragged him through the broken entrance to safety.

Selwyn had survived, but having passed his seventeenth birthday the week before, was now facing life in Azkaban for his crime. And Lucius, normally an enemy of law and order, would ensure his imprisonment- if he couldn't manage a Dementor's Kiss.

Order was being restored. Sinistra, with the help of her one remaining Prefect, Fifth Year Adrian Pucey (who had been protecting the frightened first and second years still trapped in the dorms), was organizing the removal of the Slytherins to the school's Guest Dormitories, though most of the parents would likely pull their children from the school, at least for a while.

What had hurt the most was Minerva's loss- Albus hadn't known that Gawain Robards was her nephew- her sister Athena's son- until he'd found his normally stoic Deputy wailing in grief beside his body.

Amelia had already suspended the reckless Aurors who had charged into the Common Room- they would likely be stripped of their badges and spending time in Azkaban for this mess once the court-martials were complete. Their actions, in direct violation of her orders, had led to to deaths of civilians, some of whom were underage.

Albus looked out into the Ward, then rose and walked over to a blond eleven-year-old sitting on a bed, arms wrapped around his knees, a look of shock on his face. Albus recognized the signs of what his nephew Samuel would have called a 'terminal reality check'- that moment when a young, cocky boy first has the unpleasant realization that, yes, it can happen to you, too.

Lowering to his knees to look the boy in the eye, Albus said, "How are you, Draco? Do you need me to call the Healer over?"

Draco Malfoy stared, unseeing, for a moment, then said, "I didn't think they'd hurt me. We're Slytherins. We're Purebloods. Why would they attack their own?"

"Alas, Draco, we won't know for sure until Mr. Selwyn's trial, the reason he hit you with that curse. Do you need anything, Draco?"

"I want my Mum."

"A reasonable request. I shall try to hasten her arrival if I can." Albus looked up to where Gregory Goyle stood sentinel between Draco's bed and the bed containing the unconscious and bandaged form of Vincent Crabbe. "Look after them, Mr. Goyle."

Young Goyle merely nodded respectfully to the Headmaster.

Albus walked over to the doors, where Lucius and several other school governors were discussing what to do about the situation. "Lucius," Albus began, waiting for the blond man to turn to him, "Your son has requested his mother. I also believe your presence would be comforting in the wake of this ordeal."

Lucius's eyes darted over Albus's shoulder to see his son in shock. "Yes, o-of course, Albus. Narcissa is on her way back from Monaco and will be arriving at any time. If you gentlemen will excuse me," he nodded to the other governors, and hastened to his son's bedside.

Seeing Lucius gather his now-weeping son into his arms, Albus turned and headed over to Poppy to see how he could help. This would take a long time to resolve and recover from. But the students must come first.

CHAPTER END


	8. Season's Introspection

**Taking Charge**

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 8: Season's Introspection

***STORY***

_19 December, 1991_

_1400 Hours, Local Time_

_Outside the Hogwarts Ward Room_

Albus Dumbledore strolled through the halls of Hogwarts, deep in thought. After the Slytherin tragedy at the beginning of the month, things had been tense. The very next day, First Year Gryffindor Ron Weasley had made some smug comments about 'filthy Snakes getting what they deserve', the shock immobilizing the teachers. It would have come to blows if not for Harry Potter, Gryffindor Golden Boy, decking the loudmouthed redhead, yelling about his callousness, his idiocy, and his tactless disregard for human decency. He had declared Ronald's delight in human suffering made him no better than the Death Eaters who had tortured innocents for no reason other than they could. The Gryffindors, including Ronald's three older brothers, had all aligned behind Harry, making it clear that Ronald had no support of his views in the Lion's Den. The Slytherins had calmed down after that, many of them considering Potter's words, looking at their parents' prejudices in a new light.

Fortunately, Albus had had someone to call for help: While most had dismissed her as a 'crazy cat lady' at Privet Drive, Dr. Arabella Figg actually held degrees in Psychology and Grief Counseling. Albus, having no intention of sending Harry back to the Dursleys, had brought Dr. Figg to the castle as the new School Counselor, and she had immediately been helpful in helping the traumatized Slytherins deal with their problems following the tragedy. A new respect for Squibs, and Muggle Healing, was slowly beginning to form in the self-proclaimed House of the Pure.

As for the Snake Pit- while the Common Room and Dorms had been repaired, most of the remaining Snakes had been reluctant to return. After a discussion between Albus, Arabella, and the new Head of Slytherin, Aurora Sinistra, the temporary quarters in the Guest Tower were remodeled and redecorated to become the new Slytherin Dorms. Maybe, years down the line after the current students had graduated, the Slytherins could be moved back to their old Dungeons. Sinistra had also appointed new Prefects to fill vacancies- Barnabas Bole and Eliza Moon were the new Sixth Year Prefects, and Cassandra Scrimgeour had filled the vacant Fifth Year female role. All of the Seventh Years had died in the explosion, making those roles defunct. Carl Warrington, Fifth Year Chaser, was the new Quidditch Captain. As the Head Girl, Roxanne Jordan, had been killed in the blast, Albus had appointed Hufflepuff Prefect Nymphadora Tonks as the new Head Girl.

Today, the students had left for the Holidays. Realizing that performing the Purge while the students were in the castle was a mistake, he had made going home for the holidays this year mandatory, making special arrangements for those students whose parents were unavailable or were counting on Hogwarts housing them over the Hols. Harry Potter was currently on the train, getting to know his second cousin, Nymphadora Tonks, whose parents had agreed to house Harry over the Hols. Whether that would continue over the summer was a bridge to be crossed later.

Albus had given notice to Cuthbert Binns and Sybil Trelawney that their services were no longer required. Charity Burbage, the Muggle Studies Professor, was being transferred to the now-vacant History post, and Nymphadora's Muggleborn uncle Joshua Tonks was taking over and upgrading the Muggle Studies program. The Divination course was being taken by a friend of Hagrid's, a centaur named Firenze, though Albus was wondering if it might be time to put that course to rest. He would see how the remainder of the year went.

Albus had gotten lucky on the subject of Potions: when his old mentor Nicholas Flamel had come to the school to collet his Philosopher's Stone, he and Albus had gotten into a long talk about what was happening at the school. Nicholas had taken pity on Albus's predicament, and volunteered to cover the Potions course for the remainder of the Year, and maybe beyond. His wife Perenelle, a talented warrior with centuries of experience under her belt, had agreed to take the Defense position.

Albus had also realized that, in the years he was influenced by the Elder Wand, he had stretched himself far too thin. Fixing the problems at Hogwarts and tracking down Voldemort's Horcruxes were going to be full-time jobs, he couldn't afford to divide his attention further with politics. Remembering his great-nephew Samuel Glyphs's advice about delegating authority, he had resigned as both Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump. As he was retiring and not being removed, custom in the Wizengamot had dictated he name his successor. He had chosen Augusta Longbottom, a tough-but-fair champion of justice who would get the necessary changes made to the laws to pull their society out of stagnation. On the ICW front, Sensei Matsuhisa Aoki of Japan had been elected the new Supreme Mugwump. As for the British delegate, Albus had nominated the most skilled politician and networker he knew- Horace Slughorn, a former Hogwarts Professor. Considering how many Wizengamot members had benefited from Horace's networking skills, it was a done deal once Horace accepted Albus's nomination.

Now, he stood in the hall on the fourth floor outside the Ward Room, alongside a beautiful African woman of regal bearing. Albus planned to re-introduce some discontinued electives in the next academic year, and this woman, Capelle Zabini, had already graciously accepted the post of Professor of Magical Painting and Sculpture. Now, they stood before a shrouded portrait that Albus commissioned, a portrait that was to become the new Guardian Portrait for the Ward Room. With the subject's military past and dedication to the safety of the school, Albus could think of no better place to hang his portrait. Removing the shroud, Albus gazed upon a middle-aged man in a 1940's-era USMC dress uniform. Standing back, he gave the activation phrase left in the man's final letter.

_"Semper Fidelis."_

The portrait blinked, rolled his shoulders, and looked out at the two people standing before him. Smiling, Gunnery Sergeant Samuel J. Glyphs said, "Hey, Uncle Al, Cappy. Miss me?"

CHAPTER END


	9. Nothing More Than Briefings

**Taking Charge**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 9: Nothing More Than Briefings...

IIIIIIISTORYIIIIIII

_January 2, 1992_

_Hogwarts Faculty Lounge, Second Floor_

Albus sat, waiting, for his faculty to arrive back from their New Years' celebrations. With the school cleared of Dark objects, and the students returning in a few days, Albus needed to brief his teachers on a few things, before heading up to his office to speak with a Gringotts representative.

The first to arrive, surprisingly, was Septima Vector. The day after the ill-fated search of the Slytherin Dungeons, Septima had awoken to find she had no feeling below the waist. The finest Healers in St. Mungo's couldn't undo the damage- Septima would never walk again. As no one had ever bothered to invent a magical equivalent to a wheelchair, Albus had acquired a high-quality electric wheelchair and, with an official permission from his friend Mortimer Perkins in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, had charmed it to run off magic instead of a Muggle motor. This didn't help her with the many stairs in the school, but as her office, quarters and classroom were all on the same floor, she only had to call her house-elf Frodo to elf-pop her and her chair to other floors a few times a day.

Filius Flitwick and Pomona Sprout walked in next, visibly unchanged by the events of the past two months. Behind them, Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel entered, both looking a hale and healthy mid-40's when everyone was aware they were easily the oldest people in the room. Next, Charity Burbage entered, followed by Firenze the Centaur.

Aurora Sinistra entered next, alongside her old friend Minerva McGonagall. The death of Gawain Robards had shaken her badly, and Minerva was now doubting herself. Having come to a similar conclusion to Albus (namely, that she was strething herself too thin), she had resigned as Head of Gryffindor House. The position had been passed to the next man through the door, Lawrence Kettleburn, hobbling along on his magical peg-leg as he conversed with Joshua Tonks. Finally, Bathsheba Babbling entered, closing the door behind her when she saw she had arrived last.

Once everyone was seated, Albus rose. "I thank you all for coming, my colleagues. As you all know, we have had a rough year thus far at Hogwarts- we've lost a few of our own, and a truly honest appraisal has caused me to dismiss a few other faculty members. Thus, I shall introduce around the room. Those of you who do know everyone here, please bear with me.

"Starting to my left, is my Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration Professor, Minerva McGonagall. Next, our Professor of Astronomy and Head of Slytherin House, Aurora Sinistra. Next, my old friend and mentor, Nicholas Flamel, has consented to cover our Potions program for the remainder of the academic year, and his wife Perenelle- who prefers to be called Penny- shall take care of the Defense post for now.

"Seated to her left is Septima Vector, our Professor of Arithmancy, and Bathsheba Babbling, our Professor of Ancient Runes. To my right, our Charms Professor and Head of Ravenclaw, Filius Flitwick, followed by Pomona Sprout, our Head of Hufflepuff and Herbology teacher. Beyond her is Lawrence Kettleburn, Care of Magical Creatures and Head of Gryffindor House. Next we have Charity Burbage, who will now be teaching History of Magic, and Joshua Tonks, our Muggle Studies Professor. Finally, we welcome Firenze the Centaur as our new teacher for Divination."

"Oh, so I don't rate a mention?"

Albus smiled as he looked at the landscape portrait on the far wall. Leaning casually against the frame was a smirking middle-aged man in a 1940's-era US Marine uniform. A few gasps came from the faculty as several recognized him.

"And of course, our new Wardmaster and Guardian Portrait to the Ward Room, Gunnery Sergeant Samuel Glyphs."

Seeing the tears welling in Minerva's eyes at the sight of her old friend and colleague, Albus decided to move things along. "Yes, there will be time to catch up socially, but for now, we have a lot of ground to cover and I have another appointment of some importance in three hours, so if we could start..."

SCENE BREAK

Two hours and fifty-three minutes later, Glyphs notified Albus that his other appointment had crossed the wards and was en route to the Entrance Hall. Excusing himself whilst Minerva took over the meeting, Albus headed down to the Entrance Hall to greet his visitor.

"Senior Curse-Breaker Ironclaw, a pleasure. May your foes' widows weep wails of lament."

"Greetings, Headmaster Dumbledore. May your gold flow like a rushing river."

"If we could adjourn to my office?"

The Headmaster and the middle-aged goblin made small talk until they reached Albus's office. Upon entering, Albus threw up several security wards and asked the portraits of former Headmasters to busy themselves elsewhere for a while. Once they were gone, Albus pulled a heavy lead box from under his desk and placed it on top.

"I take it you read my letter in its entirety?"

"Of course, Headmaster. Lord Ragnok is most concerned about the possibility that the self-styled 'Lord Voldemort' may not have passed beyond the Veil. His brand of warfare left Gringotts with an overabundance of unclaimed vaults, vaults we cannot touch, or invest the contents of, until they are claimed. Voldemort is bad for business. Lord Ragnok also believed your explanation: if there was any Wizard in the past century foul enough to create Horcruxes, Voldemort would be the one. I take it this box contains your proof?"

Albus nodded gravely, then opened the lid. Reaching carefully inside, he removed a silvery crown and placed it on the desk, positioned so that Ironclaw could read the inscription:

_**WIT BEYOND MEASURE IS MAN'S GREATEST TREASURE**_

Ironclaw inhaled sharply, "The Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw..."

"Yes," Albus nodded, "and according to our scans, it has been corrupted into a Horcrux by Tom Marvolo Riddle, the wizard who became Lord Voldemort."

"Arrogant worm! Were he still in corporeal form, I would gut him myself for defiling a Goblin-made treasure like this!"

"Indeed. Now, my former Runes Professor, Samuel Glyphs, was a Curse-Breaker at one time. He told me that there were known rituals Gringotts could use to destroy all Horcruxes made by a single individual if they got their hands on one of these."

"True, but- are you saying this Riddle created more than one of these abominations?"

"My research indicates it is so. I would also like to contract your Curse-Breakers to perform said ritual, and for Gringotts to consider an annual rental fee for Hogwarts to display this relic of one of our Founders afterward- that is, if it is still in any condition to be displayed."

"Gringotts would be willing to agree to this, but we would request a service from you in return, rather than money."

"If it is within my power."

"As I said, Gringotts has many vaults that lay unclaimed. As you know, even nowadays it is commonplace for pureblood families to disown any Squibs they produce. Gringotts' research into bloodlines indicates that these lines, passing into the Muggle world, eventually forget their heritage, and when magic re-emerges in their line, these children are what we now call 'Muggle-Born'. We would like you to encourage the Muggle-Born of Hogwarts- and any adults who will listen to you- to come to Gringotts for an inheritance test. We believe that if enough Muggle-Born do so, then we shall find living Heirs to families believed dead, and their vaults can once more be brought into circulation- a benefit to both Wizard and Goblin economies."

"And you are certain that Heirs exist?"

"The magic of the vaults seals them while there is a caretaker of the legacy- a living descendant of the original vault-holder. While only a witch or wizard can claim the vault, if there is a living caretaker- even disowned, or with no magic of their own- the vault remains sealed. It is how we know that the Founders all have living Heirs, despite only the Hufflepuff Heir being publicly known- whilst the MacMillan family has access to the Hufflepuff vault as the primary Heirs, the vaults of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Slytherin are sealed- indicating living Heirs, even if they themselves are unaware. Perhaps, there would be profit in even the Pure-Bloods, who are so sure of their heritage, testing to see if they can claim unclaimed vaults?"

"Then, Senior Curse-Breaker Ironclaw, I believe we have an accord."

END CHAPTER


	10. A Trial of Errors

**Taking Charge**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

A/N: I've received reviews (including unsigned ones, which irritates me) about the Founders' Heirs I alluded to in the last chapter. I will currently say four things about this subject:

1) All three missing Heirs will be identified by the end of my fic,

2) This will have little to no bearing on the main plot of destroying Voldemort,

3) Harry is NOT one of the Founders' Heirs (personally, I think that's been done to death),

4) Slytherin's Heir will be a Muggle-Born (not Hermione), just to p*ss off the likes of Riddle.

Anyhoo, moving on to the next chapter-

Chapter 10: A Trial of Errors

_16 January 1992_

_Ministry of Magic, Hall of Records_

Albus Dumbledore was frustrated. This was not a normal state for him. He glared at the records clerk, one Sturgis Podmore, and saw the younger man squirm.

"I-I'm sorry, H-Headmaster, but I c-cannot g-give you the trial transcript f-f-for Sirius B-Black."

"And why not, Mr. Podmore?" Albus may not have been this man's headmaster for over a decade, but he could still make him feel like a misbehaving firstie called to his office.

"B-Because there is n-no transcript. Sirius B-Black was n-never given a trial."

Albus ratcheted up the glare another notch. Sturgis struggled (and barely succeeded) to not wet himself.

"Are you telling me that an Heir to an Ancient and Noble House has been in Azkaban for over a decade and he wasn't even given the common courtesy of a trial- a courtesy extended even to Bellatrix LeStrange?"

"I-I didn't discover th-this until l-last y-year, sir, and n-n-nobody I t-talked to w-wanted to h-hear it. Mr. Crouch th-threatened to p-put me in A-Azkaban m-myself if I didn't dr-drop it."

Albus sighed and released his glare, causing Podmore to visibly relax. "I apologize, Sturgis. You just caught me by surprise with some rather horrifying news."

Albus had come to the Hall of Records today to unseal the Potter Will, hopefully to help determine the best home for young Mr. Potter (though, to be fair, Lucius Malfoy would have been a better choice than Petunia Dursley- Lucius would have just killed the lad rather than subjecting him to a decade of torment). The fact that James and Lily's joint will had declared that Sirius Black was _not _their Secret-Keeper, and that Peter Pettigrew _was,_ had been an unwelcome shock to the aged wizard. That the Potters had left Pettigrew an inheritance of thirty silver sickles would have seen Pettigrew executed on the spot at the will reading in Gringotts- it was a symbolic outing of a traitor and request for his execution, which the goblins would have gleefully carried out, a tradition harking back to the infamous betrayer Judas Iscariot, who had accepted a payment of thirty pieces of silver to betray Jesus Christ, the Great Mage-Healer of Nazareth, to Roman Witch-Hunters for his execution.

Subsequently finding out that Black had never been questioned, let alone given a trial, just made the migraine blossom behind his left eye. Albus was starting to wonder if he would succumb to an aneurysm before he fixed all the mistakes he'd made while under the Elder Wand's influence, and once again silently thanked his nephew for freeing him of its curse.

Excusing himself from the Hall, Albus made his way up to the office of a Ministry Department Head who might be able to help him. Pushing through the door into the Foreign Relations Office, Albus knocked on a door labelled

_**D. Cresswell**_

_**Department Head**_

_**Goblin Liaison Office**_

"Enter!"

Albus entered the office to find Dirk Cresswell, the only Muggle-Born Director in the Ministry, sorting through a pile of parchment on his desk. Judging by the heraldry that Albus could see from the door, it had little to do with the man's official job.

"Did I catch you at a bad time, Mr. Cresswell?"

"Professor!" The normally-cheerful man looked a little frazzled. "Can you believe this? Twenty years I'm not marriage material, one Inheritance Test at Gringotts and suddenly I'm being pitched every unmarried Pureblood daughter under the age of ninety!"

It had caused an uproar when the goblins had announced that the supposedly Muggleborn Cresswell was the Heir of Slytherin. When the Pureblood Supremacists had decried this, the goblins had delineated his descent from Ignatius, the second son of Salazar Slytherin. Tom Marvolo Riddle, the last surviving descendant of Salazar's firstborn Caradoc, had been the Heir until the death of his body in 1981. Magical Inheritance did not follow the magic, soul, or mind- it followed the blood. As the Gringotts spokesgoblin Ironshaft said, "It is immaterial if some form of Tom Marvolo Riddle, the self-styled Dark Lord Voldemort still lingers. On October 31st, 1981- his heart stopped beating, his blood stopped flowing. For the purposes of Heritage, _he is dead._ As he left no Heir of his own, the Heirship of Salazar Slytherin has passed to the seniormost surviving cadet line, of which Dirk Andrew Cresswell is the only living Magical."

Snapping out of his reverie, Albus twinkled at the man and said, "If you could, I would like your assistance in righting a wrong- that is, if you could tear yourself away from your marriage prospects?"

Dirk tossed the parchments in his hand down on the desk and replied, "Gladly! I swear, the inbreeding is evident in some of these pictures- some of these women couldn't get laid in a Navy port. I mean, ugly is one thing- but calling some of these women trolls would be insulting the trolls!"

"This is a situation where both your status as Head of a Founder's House and Head of the Goblin Liaison Office would be useful. Sirius Black, the Heir of an Ancient and Noble House, has been in prison, without trial I might add, for a crime he did not commit. Considering it was Barty Crouch who committed the wrong-"

"Ooooh, yeah, tough one. Sirius is currently the Black Family Head, even if he hasn't officially claimed it-"

"In prison?"

"His Head of House, his grandfather Arcturus, never disowned him- in fact, he was still named Lord Arcturus's successor in his Will. Caused a bit of a hullabaloo back in April of last year when old Archie died. The Ministry, no doubt encouraged by Malfoy's money, tried to have the Will invalidated and Sirius declared ineligible- probably because that son of his, Draco, was supposedly next in line. Gringotts refused, though."

"Supposedly next?"

"Well, this is only the gossip mind you, but absent a valid will or acknowledged surviving male descendant of Arcturus, the next in line would have been Harry Potter."

"How?"

"Arcturus had two siblings that were not disowned by his predecessors- his older sister Dorea and his younger half-brother Sagittarius. Sagittarius fathered Cadmus, who fathered Narcissa, who is Draco's mother. Dorea however, married Charlus Potter-"

"Harry's grandfather?"

"Yes. On the Black Family Tree, Harry Potter is one full generation closer to the direct line than Draco Malfoy, therefore his would be the senior claim."

"Interesting. But back to Mr. Black-"

"Let me guess, the Heir of Slytherin publicly calling for justice for a wrongfully-imprisoned man, backed by the very vocal support of Gringotts, and maybe we topple that bastard Crouch in the process?"

"I believe I can even get Cornelius behind such a maneuver, if I spin it right- after all, it was not _his _administration that stripped an innocent man of his rights and cast him in that hellhole."

"You realize they're going to scream for Bagnold's blood as well, don't you?"

"Then I wish them luck in convincing Brazil to extradite her and her ill-gotten gains."

"Fair enough. So, I believe I have some goblins to speak to, and a press release to write."

"Thank you, Mr. Cresswell. And may I give a belated congratulations to your promotion- even if I'm a year late?"

"It had little to do with my politicking, Headmaster- apparently, the goblins requested me by name."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"I'm not sure. Every time I ask, they give me the same reason- one that I'm sure is a joke."

"Oh?"

"They claim I have a perfect goblin name."

"Dirk?"

"It's a short knife used for stabbing." Albus chuckled at the man's rueful grin.

**CHAPTER END**

A/N2: About Judas and Jesus- If you read the Gospels in the New Testament carefully, you realize that Jesus denied being the Messiah repeatedly- to crowds, to his apostles, even to Pontius Pilate and Herod, where it could have saved his life. My stance is that, unlike the early Christians, the wizards chose to believe Jesus when he claimed not to be the Messiah, and labelled him a very talented Healer.


	11. A Werewolf in London

**Taking Charge**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

A/N: Yes, I checked the Lunar Calendar to find what day the full moon was in January 1992. I'm _that _anal retentive.

Chapter 11: A Werewolf in London

_19 January 1992_

_East End, London_

Less than an hour to the moonrise.

Fenrir Greyback, born Franklin Hardbotham, always loved this time: the anticipation, the readiness for the hunt.

At moonrise, he would hunt- and kill.

The Wizengamot and the more pro-human factions of wizarding society had spent decades demonizing werewolves, holding up Fenrir Greyback as an example of the monsters they were. What few of these bigots realized was that Frank Hardbotham was a nasty piece of work _before _he was Turned- Scotland Yard already had warrants out for his arrest for four counts of Murder One, and he was lead suspect in several more.

But what could you expect from a twisted sixteen-year-old who idolized Jack the Ripper, and sought to continue his 'great work'?

Lycanthropy didn't make Fenrir Greyback a killer.

It just gave him new tools to use.

Stalking through the streets of London's East End, Greyback prowled for his first victim. He liked to sate the bloodlust quickly- once the Wolf had its first kill of the night, it was easier to control- easier for Greyback to pull back and prolong his kills- enjoy their suffering.

Maybe he'd Turn another child tonight- another youngling to raise to hate the humans that would shun him.

There.

Huddled in a doorway, what looked like a mother and child, wrapped in blankets to fight the cold. They were alive- he could smell them from here.

They would do.

Just in time, as the moon emerged from the clouds.

Fenrir Greyback felt little pain from his transformation. That was because, unlike most weres, he didn't fight the change into a ravening beast.

He embraced it.

Rearing back to howl, in a tableau that Hollywood would kill to put in a monster movie, Greyback moved in for the kill. With a snarl, he pounced, jaws snapping-

Only to whine in pain as his jaws closed on metal.

A familiar, _hated _metal.

He felt a yawning sensation in his stomach, and pulled back quickly.

Reassessing his prey, he saw the woman standing proud, he face still hidden by her hood, but both hands clad in gleaming metal gauntlets. The child, whose face was also hidden, didn't stand like a child. It stood like a warrior- a _Goblin _warrior- as it held a gleaming shortsword dripping with blood.

Blood?

Fenrir, now feeling woozy, looked down and saw the gaping hole in his stomach. His were-enhanced healing wasn't kicking in.

Goblin Steel.

Goblin steel was always crafted with trace amounts of mithril- a magically-enhanced variant of silver.

The world started to waiver- then all was dark.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Staring down at the cooling form of Wizarding Europe's most notorious serial killer, Filius Flitwick and Perenelle Flamel cleaned the Goblin Steel they carried of the Werewolf's blood and saliva.

It was over, just like that.

A simple trap, complete with notice-me wards keyed to the killer, and the pair of academics had taken down a monster and ended his decades-long reign of terror.

When Albus had suggested this ambush to deal with one of Europe's Most Wanted, Filius had jumped at the plan. Perenelle had followed quickly after.

Attaching a Portkey to the corpse, Filius prepared to deliver the body to the Ministry- and collect the 50,000 Galleon bounty (dead, don't bother with alive), to be donated to the school for the purposes of replacing the school's shoddy brooms. Looking up at his companion, he frowned.

"Coming, Penny?"

"You go, Filius. I shall be heading back to Hogwarts directly," she replied with an archaic French lilt.

Filius nodded, "Be careful. Werewolves aren't the only danger in the back alleys at night- particularly to a woman travelling alone."

Penny smirked at the half-goblin, "Fear not, Filius. In a past incarnation, I took the name Jeanne D'Arc. I think I still remember my way around a blade."

Filius smirked in return, saluted with his blade, and activated the Portkey.

Perenelle Flamel stared at the blood on the pavement, as the rain began, slowly washing away the last signs of Franklin Hardbotham. Finally, she spoke.

"Oh, my sweet little Frankie- Mommy is so disappointed in the monster you became. I hope you suffer in Hell for what you forced your dear mother to do to stop you."

CHAPTER END

A/N2: Yes, Albus & Co. are getting proactive against the Dark Lord's followers and allies now. Albus wants to make sure that, even if Voldie makes it back into a body before they destroy the Horcruxes (On the Summer Solstice), he will be at a severe disadvantage in his bid for conquest. That means taking away weapons like Greyback.


	12. A Gathering of Family

**Taking Charge**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 12: A Gathering of Family

_January 29, 1992_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry_

_Headmaster's Office_

Albus Dumbledore looked at the surviving members of his family- Abe's family, actually, as they were _his _descendants, not Albus's. He had finally gathered Samuel's children and grandchildren from overseas, and called a family meeting.

In the center, giving Albus the evil eye and a Snape-worthy scowl, was Albus's younger brother Aberforth Dumbledore. To Abe's left sat Samuel's son, CPO Nalshay 'Nall' Glyphs, USN (Retired). Beside him was his wife, Russian expat Natasha Glyphs, former DMA (Department of Magical Affairs) field agent. Next were their two sons, Simon a fourth year and Albert, a first year, both at Samuel's alma mater of Salem. On Abe's right sat Samuel's surviving daughter, Elena Delacour, and her husband Pierre, both faculty members at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic in France- Pierre teaching History, Elena teaching Herbology. Next to them were their two children, Rafael a third year and Colette a first year, both at Beauxbatons.

Albus paused, considering Elena and her lost twin. Adina Glyphs had just gotten engaged to Raymond Potter, James's older brother, when the Diagon Alley attack happened in 1979. The young couple, as well as Samuel's wife Leona, had all been killed at Madame Malkin's while selecting the dress robes that the wizards in the wedding party would be wearing. That day had nearly broken Samuel. Instead, he had resigned his post a Hogwarts and disappeared for six months, during which all six Death Eaters involved in the attack had turned up dead, their Dark Marks cut up with large X's.

Albus never asked Samuel about it. He figured he was better off not confirming what he knew in his heart had happened. He had simply welcomed Samuel back to his old post, as his replacement was all too willing to step aside for the world-renowned expert.

Ironically, it was Samuel's unconfirmed actions during that period that led to part of what Albus had called them here for. Clearing his throat, Albus began, "I assume you are all wondering why I called you here."

Abe interrupted testily, "Cut the theatrics and get to the point, Albus." He followed this with an "OOF!" from the solid elbow Nall placed in his gut.

"Gramps, would it kill you to act civil for five minutes while in the same room as Uncle Al?" Nall rolled his eyes at his great-grandfather.

"It might," growled the old man, before receiving a slap to the back of the head, this time from Elena. Both of Samuel's children loved their great-grandfather dearly, but he had an established pattern of unreasonable behavior with Albus. Great-Aunt Ariana's death was tragic, yes, but over a century was a ridiculously long time to hold a grudge.

"Moving on," Nall continued, "I assume this has something to do with the Blood Inheritance test you had me take at Gringotts?"

"That was actually my idea," came a voice from one of the portrait frames. The extended Glyphs-Dumbledore family looked up to see a familiar uniformed face smiling at them.

"Grampa!" Colette shrieked happily.

"Hey Sweetie," the portrait-figure of Samuel Glyphs replied to his beloved granddaughter.

"Dad?" Nall questioned, a bit surprised that his father had made a Soul-Stone before his death.

"I wanted you to take the test to check for any unknown inheritances in your, and my, bloodlines. Good thing, too."

"It seems," Albus began, "that in 1979, the senior claimant line of an important British Heirdom died out, when Oglethorpe Avery, Death Eater and last of his line, turned up dead three months after the Diagon Alley Massacre with a large X cut through his Dark Mark."

Neither Nall nor Albus missed the exaggerated look of innocence on Samuel's face at this statement.

"Though they did not know it, the Averys were the Heirs of Rowena Ravenclaw. Upon Oglethorpe's death, his line was extinct and the next senior cadet line became the Heirs. This line branched off in the 16th century, and came into my generation through Karina Selwyn, oldest daughter of Lord Argos Selwyn and Margaret Flanders."

Aberforth started at that statement. Karina had been the mother of Abe's only child, Adele, though Abe and Karina had never married. She'd disappeared a few months after Adele's birth, and was never heard from again. Abe always suspected, but could not prove, that Karina's family had killed their 'disgraceful' unwed mother of a daughter. It was then he sent his daughter to be raised in America by his dear friends, Jack and Ridley Silverlake.

"This line extended through Karina's only daughter Adele Dumbledore, and then to her son Samuel Glyphs, and finally to Samuel's oldest child-" here Albus looked pointedly at Nall.

Nall raised an eyebrow, in unconscious imitation of one of his father's facial gestures. "Are you saying I'M the Heir of Ravenclaw?"

"And have been since the death of your father in November."

"Which was YOUR fault, Albus!"

"Oh, put a sock in it, Gramps!" Samuel snapped at his grandfather. Honestly, the man could hold a grudge forever. "You want to know the gruesome truth? I've reviewed both your memory and Albus's of that incident. It was an _Arresto Cardio _from Gellert Grindelwald's wand which ended Ariana's life. Granted, before she fell, a ricocheting Stunner from Albus's wand hit her as well, but GELLERT GRINDELWALD killed your precious sister, NOT Uncle Al. Get over yourself already!"

Abe, never having been yelled at by his grandson before, collapsed back into his chair, staring agape at the Marine's portrait figure.

"As for me- I knew the risks. I'M the one who went forward with the Re-Warding of Hogwarts while still recovering from an exorcism. I could have easily- and safely pushed the ritual back to the Holiday break, but didn't. I'm dead because *I* made a poor judgement call, not Uncle Al! Now, stop blaming him for everything and move on already!"

Abe's face fell forward into his hands, and loud sobs wracked his spindly frame. Elena and Natasha both reached over to comfort the broken old man.

Samuel rubbed the back of his head, and said ruefully, "I wish I hadn't had to do that."

"It needed to be said, Dad," Nall replied. "He's been holding on to this hate and anger for so long... you're the only one who could get through to him."

It took a while for Abe to cry himself out, but after some hot chocolate all around, everyone was seated again, with Colette now standing behind Abe, rubbing his shoulder in a comforting manner. Over the next hour, Albus detailed what he and the faculty had accomplished in righting the mistakes of his possession of (and by) the Elder Wand, since Samuel had destroyed the foul thing.

"So, what do you think we should do, Uncle Al?"

"As I understand it, Nall, you and Natasha are currently unemployed, having just retired from the Navy and the government? I was hoping to convince the two of you to relocate, at least temporarily, to Britain to help us deal with these problems. Individuals with your skills and training would be helpful in dealing with the Death Eater problem and making certain that Voldemort does not restart his campaign of terror. Hogwarts would, of course, welcome any of the children as transfer students, should they choose."

A quick conversation between Samuel's grandchildren saw Simon and Albert deciding to finish out the year at Salem. If their parents were still in Britain in September, they would transfer then. Rafael and Colette, however, would accept the offer to transfer. Colette, an aspiring Potions Mistress, practically drooled at the idea of learning from the legendary Nicholas Flamel. Rafael, an aspiring prankster, just wanted to be somewhere his parents weren't teaching. It was very difficult to get away with anything when you were under the authority of people who knew you too well.

The matter settled and agreed upon by their parents, Albus walked over to the Sorting Hat and said, "Adrian, I believe you know what I need you to do."

Adrian, the Sorting Hat, replied, "Of course, Albus. Always a pleasure to Sort bright young minds."

Adrian was plonked down on Rafael's head first. After a mental argument between boy and hat for over two minutes, Adrian called out, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Removing the Hat from his head, Rafael gently placed it on his sister's head, knowing how touchy she was about her hair. Adrian had barely come to rest on the child's head when he cried out, "RAVENCLAW!"

Pierre Delacour spoke up, "Why did this silly chapeau take so long to sort Rafael, but so quickly sort Colette?"

Rafael smirked and replied, "It wanted to sort me into Slytherin. As if any self-respecting cunning and devious person would allow this hat to announce to the world they are cunning and devious. Now Gryffindors- they have a reputation for charging in without thought. Nobody expects a _Gryffindor _to be cunning."

"Almost word-for-word the same argument you gave me, Albus," Adrian stated, "when I sorted you into Gryffindor all those years ago."

The entire extended Glyphs-Dumbledore family (including Samuel) stared at their eldest member as he chuckled to himself.

CHAPTER END

A/N: Original Spell: _Arresto Cardio: _Honestly, do I really have to translate this one?


	13. Deadly Nightshade

**Taking Charge**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 13- Deadly Nightshade

_February 1, 1992_

_Azkaban Prison, aka Skull Island_

_Somewhere off the coast of Scotland_

_01:32 AM_

Natasha Glyphs, formerly Natasha Romanov, ghosted through the corridors of the feared Azkaban Prison, not even being noticed by the guards, either human or Dementor.

Ghosting was a lost talent. It involved slipping ever so slightly out of phase with the rest of the world. One could walk through crowds unnoticed, pass through solid walls, even cross detection wards without tripping an alarm.

The last family to possess this rare talent were the Romanovs. During the Bolshevik Revolution following World War I, the Romanovs had been wiped out to the man, woman and child...

Except for Natasha's great-grandmother, Anastasia.

Forced onto the streets and into hiding, Anastasia quickly learned to survive. Being the last living soul capable of ghosting, she learned how to evade capture using her power. Eventually, she latched onto a way to survive, even thrive, using her talent.

She became a thief.

Through the next two generations, the family franchise of thievery grew, until rich people, mundane and magical alike, learned to fear the Black Cat, not even realizing it wasn't one person, but a whole family of cat burglars.

Natasha, raised in America, decided to do something else with her talents. The family franchise would go on- there were two brothers and four cousins in her generation alone who were part of the 'family business'. No, Natasha had gone to Langley, Virginia and stolen the hard-drive out of one of their most secure computers.

She then mailed it back to them. Along with her job application.

Needless to say, the CIA recruited her in a heartbeat. Impressed and Angered was an interesting combination.

Spending the next twenty years as a spy, thief, assassin, and go-between for the CIA and their magical counterparts- and only the Director-General knew her real name, rather than her code-name Nightshade- had been exhilarating, enjoyable, and satisfied her sense of patriotism. Then, having tired of it, she resigned- after Obliviating her real identity from the only person who knew it.

How Albus Dumbledore had known, she was eager to find out- but that could wait. Wouldn't do to torture one of her hubbie's relatives without an excuse he would swallow. Heck, maybe she could even try asking- Nall insisted that it worked sometimes.

Sigh. Sometimes the dichotomy of her bipolar personality scared her. Sometimes she was vicious, violent, bloodthirsty and sick- until her boys were around. Then, she could have given June Cleaver a run for her money in the saccharine-sweet mother competition.

Then again, Nall had first been attracted to the 'crazy-chick' side of her personality.

Focus on the job. She was here to deal with a major piece on Moldyshorts's side of the chessboard. She would have loved to go ballistic and eliminate all the Inner Circle Death Eaters in Azkaban-

-but even the densest politician would find something suspicious about ten convicted Death Eaters dropping dead on the same night in the same prison.

But one psychotic she-demon quietly passing in her sleep- Azkaban had that happen all the time.

Natasha slipped into the cell of Bellatrix LeStrange, the door not even a hindrance. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled a small vial containing her special brew. One part basilisk venom in five parts plain water- three drops of this was enough to kill, but a small enough dose to vanish completely in the bloodstream, and neither Magical nor Muggle forensics could detect it.

She'd had to put down lunatics and psychos on both sides of the magical divide. She just wished she'd been allowed to go after that lunatic Ghadafi. No one spilled a drink on her LBD at a cocktail party.

Three drops on the tongue, lightly applied. Bella didn't even wake. Instead, she sighed in her sleep, let out a sound that could only be called a 'death-rattle', and fell still.

Voldemort's most vicious attack dog was gone forever.

Securing her poison, Natasha ghosted out of the cell. In the morning, the guards doing rounds would find her dead in her cell. The toxin would not show up in such small amounts, and the vicious Death Eater would be written off as 'dead of natural causes'.

Not that there was anything natural about Dementors. She was half-tempted to capture one and experiment to see if she could come up with a technique to destroy them.

Hmmmm. Possible future project there. Have to run that one by Uncle Al.

Nightshade ghosted out of Azkaban, slipping into the water for the swim out to where her husband waited on the Muggle cabin cruiser, just seemingly another Muggle fishing for the weekend.

Azkaban's other Death Eaters could wait. Kill them all at once, and suspicions would be raised-

One at a time, months apart, and no one would bat an eye.

Time for the Death Eaters to eat death.

Augustus Rookwood was next.

CHAPTER END

A/N: Before anyone says it, Anastasia never married, but had three children from three different men. All her kids used her name, not their respective father's.


	14. Plausible Deniability

**Taking Charge**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 14: Plausible Deniability

STORY

_1 February 1992_

_Off the Coast of Skull Island, Scotland_

_Immediately Following the Previous Chapter_

Natasha Glyphs pulled herself out of the water onto the fishing boat her husband was standing watch over. He quietly passed her a towel, then led her below deck, where a familiar painted figure hung above the galley table. Nall Glyphs had been surprised when, after the family meeting, his wife had pulled this painting out of her trunk and hung it on the wall of their new quarters in Hogsmeade.

Apparently, his father had made _two _Soul Stones.

Samuel looked at his son and daughter-in-law. "It's done then?"

"Yes, Papa." Both men smirked slightly at 'Tasha's fake Russian accent. She only really used it when she was on the clock as Nightshade- or she and Nall were in a 'role-playing' mood. She was born and raised in Cleveland. She had adopted the fake accent to further disguise herself, and to honour her great-grandmother, the original Black Cat.

Nall and Samuel both were drawn out of their thoughts by 'Tasha's words: "In the morning, the guards will find Bellatrix LeStrange dead in her cell, no sign of forced entry, no sign of anyone else in her cell, and the poison will be metabolized to the point it will not show up on a tox-screen. They will rule it death by natural causes- not that there's anything natural about Dementors."

Nall replied, "True enough. But that's one Death Eater who'll never kill again, even if Ol' Moldy Voldy gets his body back and stages a breakout. Why are they delaying on the Horcrux disposal ritual?"

Samuel responded to the Heir of Ravenclaw. "They're not delaying. The ritual they are using- which will destroy all of Voldie's Horcruxes without us having to track them down- can only be performed one of two nights- Summer Solstice, when the power of Light is strongest, and All Souls Day, November Second, which is ideal for destroying Dark-aligned soul magics. Unfortunately, the Diadem wasn't discovered until the end of December, so the Solstice was the first date we could use."

Nall nodded- his father _was _the recognized family expert on curse breaking, after all.

'Tasha continued, "I had to fight the urge to capture a Dementor to experiment on, find a way to kill the foul creatures. Surely Albus would support this?"

Samuel thought a few moments, then said, "Wait until a few days after LeStrange's death hits the papers. Suggest it to Uncle Al as if the story made you think of the Dementors, and the danger they pose. We can't have him figuring out this part of the plan."

"Why not, Dad?" Nall asked, still trying to understand.

"Because, for all his desire to end this war before it starts, and the fact that he's more pragmatic and proactive with the Elder Wand's influence gone, Albus is still enough of an idealist to shy away from assassination. People like Bellatrix and Rookwood are too dangerous to live- Voldie _will _break out his loyal followers and use them to cause havoc and innocent people will die. Albus is best thinking these deaths are coincidental, just like everyone else will. Plausible deniability, and all that. Bella is a mad dog- she's too far gone into the Dark, and insanity, to be saved in this life. It's now on the Powers Beyond to judge her."

Both humans nodded at the painting's words. What Albus didn't know couldn't be used against him. With both Glyphs watching over Albus's interests at the Ministry- Nall holding the Dumbledore and Ravenclaw votes on the Wizengamot, 'Tasha helping Madam Bones and Head Auror Moody train the DMLE forces for possible wartime maneuvers- they had their weekends free for trips around the British Isles.

And if, in the course of these trips, they went places where Death Eater assets could be eliminated-

Well, no one had to know _all _the details, right? Nall, in his time with the Navy SEALs, and 'Tasha, while working for the CIA, had both had to do unpleasant things to make sure the bad guys stayed down. Clearing out Voldie's assets while he was still disembodied, and thus making a second rise more difficult, only made sound tactical sense.

Unfortunately, people like Albus wouldn't see it that way. Fortunately, Nall had inherited his father's esper-blindness, and 'Tasha was a master Occlumens from her Intelligence training, so Albus wouldn't be picking up any stray incriminating thoughts from the duo.

As for Samuel- well, Albus himself had given him final authority over the wards of Hogwarts, to the point where even the Headmaster couldn't override him- a precaution for a Headmaster who goes Dark or insane and endangers his students. This had the fortunate effect of making him exempt from the school's magic that forced all paintings to be wholly subservient to the seated Headmaster.

In other words, good luck getting information from him if he didn't want to give it.

Nall cleared his throat. "So, where's our trip to next weekend, Dad?"

Samuel smiled at his son and said, "Lancashire, near the home of a man named Walden Macnair."

'Tasha nodded, then asked, "Any recommendations?"

Samuel looked at his daughter-in-law and replied, "Walden's a Ministry employee- the official executioner for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures."

"Sounds like a man who could easily get mauled to death on the job if he's not careful," commented the Heir of Ravenclaw.

"I'll leave that to your imagination, then," smirked his father.

No, Albus couldn't know about the darker side of the operation. Even after all these years, he was too much of a Boy Scout for this kind of dirty work.

But then, that's what specialists were for.

END CHAPTER


	15. Gryffindor of the Bailey

**Taking Charge**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 15: Gryffindor of the Bailey

_5 February 1992_

_British Ministry for Magic_

_Courtroom 10_

_0900 AM_

The Barrister stood calm, cool and collected in the Antechamber of Courtroom Ten. This was the first court case she would be involved in since Albus Dumbledore had convinced her to take the Inheritance Ritual at Gringotts. He had argued that, with so many lines lost during the last war, she could be Heir to legacies that had only become hers with the death of a senior line. Looking at the results of said inheritance, she had to wonder if Albus had somehow known what she would find.

She was the Heir of Gryffindor, through her maternal grandfather. An interesting development, considering the man was a Death Eater. Grandpa Evan had been a harsh man, who had gotten himself killed in 1979 following a raid in Diagon Alley. Considering all of the Death Eaters involved in said raid had turned up dead within six months, the concensus amongst the old families was a surviving relative or relatives of someone who died on the raid taking revenge. She seriously doubted said killer would have ever been prosecuted even if identified.

When Grandpa Evan died, the only one of his children still alive was his daughter Druella, The Barrister's mother. Oh, he had more surviving grandchildren than The Barrister and her sisters, but they were the children of Druella's younger siblings- as the oldest surviving line, the Heirship of Gryffindor had passed to Druella, and then her oldest child The Barrister when Druella died of spattergroit in 1987.

This case was also, in a sense, one of the biggest in her career. That it involved her cousin on her father Cadmus's side was a touchy subject. She had always had doubts about his guilt. To find he had languished in Azkaban without even the dignity of a trial had her incensed! That he was Heir to one of the last surviving Ancient and Noble Houses unforgivable!

The Barrister had attempted to file a _writ of habeas corpus- _essentially, because the Ministry dropped the Quaffle and did not bring him to trial within the three-year time limit, he could be declared innocent by procedural misconduct. Her client had shot that down. He wanted his day in court. He wanted the Wizengamot and the country over the Wireless to hear him state, under Veritaserum, that he was innocent, and the identity of the true criminal. He wanted the Wizarding community to hear for themselves how he had been wronged by a system that disregarded its own laws when it suited them.

In the courtroom, Senior Auror Rufus Scrimgeour, acting as Bailiff, called out, "All rise. Wizengamot Criminal Court, Docket #47988, People vs. Sirius Orion Black, The Honourable Augusta Francine Longbottom, Regent of the Ancient and Noble House of Longbottom, Chief Justice of the Wizengamot, presiding."

(A/N: As I'm using it here, 'Chief Justice' is the gender-neutral equivalent of 'Chief Warlock' or 'Chief Witch'. The Wizengamot is, after all, the High Court.)

Madam Longbottom took her seat and said, "Be seated." As the audience and press took their seats, Madam Longbottom continued, "Counsellors?"

A man with a toothbrush moustache entered and stated, "Bartemius Adolf Crouch, Head of the Honorable House of Crouch, Director of International Magical Cooperation, for the prosecution."

Taking a deep breath, The Barrister entered the chamber and announced, "Andromeda Cassandra Black Tonks Esquire, Heir of Godric Gryffindor, for the Defense."

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The trial had been simple and straightforward. Under Veritaserum, Sirius Black had rubbished every one of Barty Crouch's claims, something that had Barty blowing his top at the Defendant more than once, until Justice Longbottom had fined him one thousand Galleons for contempt of court. He had sat there, fuming, as his case was disassembled and rubbished by Barrister Tonks and the testimony of Sirius Black and responding Aurors Pius Thicknesse and Nicholas Straighthand. At the end of the case, Justice Longbottom declared Sirius Black innocent of all charges, and ordered compensation to the tune of one hundred thousand Galleons to Sirius Black for his illegal incarceration. Sirius, with a cheeky grin familiar to anyone who was familiar with the infamous Marauders, turned around and donated his compensation to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for the purposes of updating the equipment and training of its Forensics Division, something it clearly needed if it was to avoid sending innocent people to Azkaban in the future.

Justice Longbottom had then ordered a warrant for the arrest of Peter Aloysius Pettigrew, and an investigation into all incarcerations in Azkaban, to determine that there were no other innocent men or women languishing in that hellhole without trial. That she had been glaring at Barty Crouch when stating this was missed by no one.

After court had adjourned, Sirius turned to his cousin and said, "Thanks, Andi. I owe you for getting me out of there. How's Harry?"

Andi's face clouded. "I've only met him recently, Siri. Albus placed him with Lily's sister because of the blood protections Lily used to save him, but he recently found out about how poorly he was treated there. Harry has been removed from their care, and Petunia and her husband are being brought up on charges in the Muggle court of child abuse and neglect. Albus has asked Ted and myself to look after him until you're recovered enough to claim custody."

Sirius stood there in shock. "Petunia? Albus sent him to Petunia? And that fat bigot Vernon? What in the name of Merlin's saggy Y-Fronts was he thinking?"

"Sirius!" she snapped. "This should be discussed later, when we are sure an outburst of your famous temper won't threaten your health. First things first, Harry's in better hands now, and you NEED TO GET BETTER- for him if not for yourself!"

Sirius quickly settled down. One did not get in an argument with one of the Black Sisters if there was another option- like removing your eyes with a rusty spoon, which was less painful. "Yes, Andi."

"Good. You have a bed waiting for you at Ted's clinic. When you are well enough to leave the clinic, you will be staying with myself and Ted until you are well enough to claim your Title and live on your own. Come along now, Sirius."

Sirius Black smiled ruefully. He may hold the title of Head of House, but everyone knew who _really _ran the show. Perhaps he would bow to the inevitable and name her Acting Matriarch until he found the right girl to be his Lady Black. She certainly would be doing the job- might as well make it official and give her the title as well.

CHAPTER END

A/N2: There you go, the last Founder's Heir. Betcha didn't see THAT choice coming!


	16. The Long Kiss Goodnight

**Taking Charge**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 16: The Long Kiss Goodnight

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my fellow fanfic writer wargear and his brilliant unfinished fic, "Harry Potter & the Long Kiss Goodnight". The backstory for Mundungus 'Snake' Fletcher is his brainchild and is used here with his permission.

_7 February 1992_

_Ol' Nick's Flophouse_

_666 Knockturn Alley_

_Room 13_

Mundungus Fletcher awoke with his body figuratively on fire. Whatever his attacker had poured down his throat had hurt worse than any _Cruciatus _he'd ever been hit with- and he'd been hit by the Dark Lord himself once. Sitting up with a groan, he felt a warm tin cup pressed into his hand. A sip told him not only what was in the cup, but who had handed it to him. He knew only one person who brewed this abomination she claimed was coffee.

"Nightshade?"

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Fletcher," came the Russian inflection he hadn't heard in over a decade. Opening bleary eyes, he focused on the black hair and ice-blue eyes of the assassin he'd crossed paths with, either as ally or enemy, several times when he was still with the Unspeakables.

Before Holly had disappeared.

He and Holly Evans had been in love, and engaged to marry, when the Hit Witch had disappeared on an assignment in 1980. After months of no luck finding her- not even able to confirm if she was dead or alive- he'd given in to his depression, crawled into a bottle, and not come out...

... until Nightshade had nabbed him and forced that vile potion down his throat- was it last night? He wasn't sure. What he was sure of was that the headache wasn't the only thing receding.

His addiction was gone. He didn't crave the alcohol like he had been.

That was all he needed to identify the potion. The Purgatory Purge. A potion that would put you through extreme agony as it re-wrote your body chemistry and cleared your body and mind of all chemical addictions-

-or drove you insane with pain.

"Not that I don't mind yer 'elp, Nightshade, but yer no' the type to help a bloke wif'out summat in it fer yer," Fletcher slurred.

"I am in need of 'Snake' Fletcher's assistance," she replied, "and 'Dung' Fletcher was in the way."

"What's goin' on?" Fletcher replied, his speech clarifying at pace with his mind.

"It seems that Thaddeus Nott hasn't changed his ways since the Death Eaters went to ground," Nightshade replied. "He is still kidnapping, raping and murdering little girls. I just got intel that he's taken his latest victim- Natalie Goyle, age eight."

Fletcher whistled. Both Nott and Goyle were Inner Circle Death Eaters. If he was taking children of his old colleagues- he was truly beyond even Dumbledore's concept of redemption or control. "What's the plan?"

"We find them. If the girl is still alive, we rescue her."

"And if we're too late?"

"We call down the wrath of an entire pantheon of gods to bring him to justice."

'Snake' Fletcher grinned nastily. If he and Nightshade hadn't been wholly devoted to others, she was just the type of girl who'd have lit his fire.

Of course, he'd also once lusted after Bellatrix LeStrange.

"Nah, we bring him to justice either way- kidnapping a fellow Death Eater's daughter will see him dead anyway. We'll just save the court's time."

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_Later that Night_

_Malfoy Manor_

Lucius Malfoy looked up from his parchmentwork. Someone was in the room with him. His hand went for his cane. It wasn't there.

"Looking for this?"

Lucius spun, seeing a mid-sized man in nondescript clothing and an all-concealing facemask (which only left his grey eyes uncovered) step from the shadows, holding his cane.

"Why are you here, Snake? We don't have any outstanding business."

"Oh, but we do, Mister Malfoy." A hand emerged from his cloak and tossed a file onto Lucius's desk. Lucius, having hired Snake often enough to know the drill, opened the file...

...and fought the urge to vomit on it.

Little Natalie Goyle, his daughter Ophelia's best friend, was laid out on a bed, naked and ripped open as if by a wild animal. Blood was everywhere.

"My partner and I got there too late to save the child, but we caught her murderer and dumped him on an Auror friend of ours."

"Who?" Even Lucius was mildly surprised by the level of menace he managed to put into that single word. Whoever had done this would pay.

"Thaddeus Nott."

Lucius's blood turned to ice. Nott. He had been friends with the man for years. He'd thought he knew the man. That he could do this to _any _child, much less a Pureblood daughter of a mutual friend...

_Sweet Morgana! The man could have taken Ophelia!_ Lucius's visage hardened.

"He will beg for death before I am done with him."

"Thought you might say that."

"How much?"

"On the house this time, Malfoy. Taking down child killers is a pleasure, not a job."

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISCENE BREAKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIII

_8 February 1992_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry_

_The Great Hall, Breakfast Time_

The Hall was noisy with the clatter of silverware on china, and the chatter of students, the flapping of owls.

The the Goyle family screech owl entered.

Bearing a black envelope.

The faculty and older students stilled at the sight, the younger students following their lead upon seeing what their elders were staring at.

Black envelopes were used for one thing and one thing only in Owl Post.

Death announcements.

Someone in the Goyle family had died.

Gregory Goyle, Slytherin first year, took the envelope with shaky hands, and opened it. As he read, his face clouded deeper and deeper. As the Slytherin Head of House Professor Sinestra was halfway to his place at the table, he turned to Theodore Nott seated next to him and slammed his fist into his fellow first year's face.

"BASTARD! YOUR BASTARD DA KILLED MY SISTER!"

The punch was repeated five times before Sinistra, Malfoy, Crabbe and several older Slytherins wrestled the two boys apart. The Professors Flamel had rushed down, Nicholas turning to the Slytherin Prefects holding Ted Nott.

"Get him to the Hospital Wing! Keep him there until the Headmaster releases him!"

Albus sat in shock. He knew the Death Eaters were monsters, but to kill each other's children... he turned when Joshua Tonks, Muggle Studies, elbowed him lightly.

"Albus... for Mister Nott's safety, it's probably best he's sent home. With that announcement, I doubt he'd survive even one night in the Slytherin Dorms."

Albus nodded morosely. He would need to remove Mister Nott straight from the Hospital Wing. Calling a house-elf to pack Mister Nott's belongings, he rose from the table to head up to the Hospital Wing.

Draco Malfoy sat, rubbing his friend's back as he cried for his sister. He knew Natalie- she was best friends with his own sister. That one of his father's fellow Death Eaters could do this kind of thing to another-

Suddenly, service to the Dark Lord didn't sound as appealing as when his father described it.

CHAPTER END

A/N2: There's no mention in canon that firmly states whether Draco or Goyle had siblings or not. I choose to believe that they just never got mentioned because they weren't important in JKR's story.


	17. Oh, What a Tangled Web We Weave

**Taking Charge**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 17: Oh, What a Tangled Web We Weave...

_19 February 1992_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry_

_The Edge of the Forbidden Forest_

Nall and 'Tasha stood watching as Albus, Hagrid, and the newly-arrived Charlie Weasley coordinated with Charlie's team settling harnesses on the half-dozen 'rideable' dragons they had brought with them from the Fiery Fields Dragon Preserve in Romania. Their original plans for the last two weeks had had to be revised on the fly. Three days after Bellatrix LeStrange had been found dead in her cell, a grief-stricken Rodolphus LeStrange had hung himself in his cell. Apparently, there was actual love in their psychosis-fuelled relationship. The next day, 'Tasha's contacts had brought her the story of Thaddeus Nott and his newest victim. This had brought her old colleague Snake back into the fold. With the Death Eaters in turmoil over the fact that one of their own would do such a thing, Nall and 'Tasha had decided to lay low on the assassinations- too many of their marks would be on high alert at the moment. Instead, the weekend they were originally going to arrange Walden Macnair's 'accident', 'Tasha had re-entered Azkaban and placed an undetectable triggered hex on the still-imprisoned Death Eaters.

Even if Voldie re-embodied and tried to break them out of Azkaban, they would suffer a messy death within an hour of exiting the Azkaban wards if they didn't apply the counter-curse- and they would have no reason to even suspect its presence until it was too late.

Right now, Snake was using the 'Dung' persona he'd inadvertently perfected over the last decade to keep his ear to the ground. 'Dung' Fletcher was such a well-known drunk and marginally-competent sneak thief that people spoke freely around him, especially if they thought he was besotted. He would pass along any useful tidbits to 'Tasha through a communication mirror she had given him.

'Tasha had also used the break-in to nab a Dementor for 'experimenting' to determine if she could find a way to kill them, the only part of that mission that Albus was privy to, and done with his acceptance. 'Tasha's tests had already produced results.

Apparently, napalm sticks to Dementors and effects them the same way it effects humans.

As Nall and 'Tasha approached the discussion, Hagrid's protests became audible.

"Yeh canna do this, 'Eadmaster! 'E would'n' 'arm no one!"

"Hagrid!" Nall hadn't seen that exasperated look on Albus's face before. Hagrid must be being particularly obstinate. "The fact that I was remiss in dealing with this is no excuse! Our experts state that if the acromantula colony isn't removed soon, it will shortly be of a size that the Forbidden Forest will no longer sustain it. The acromantulae will venture out of the forest in search of food... and this forest is on the doorstep of the school! I cannot in good conscience allow this to be delayed any further than it already has!"

"But Per'fesser-"

"HAGRID!"

"'E's been with me since-"

"HAGRID! I am truly sorry to do this, but I cannot have a Gamekeeper who refuses the removal of deadly creatures from school grounds because he considers them pets! Rubeus Hagrid, since you cannot put the safety and well-being of the students above your menagerie, you leave me no choice but to terminate your employment here!"

The silence that followed this pronouncement was deafening. Hagrid had been at Hogwarts seemingly forever. For him to be dismissed from his position...

Nall looked around and saw the crowd that had observed this. Most of the faculty and at least a quarter of the students had seen the entire altercation. Given the speed at which gossip spread, and the fact that half the Wizengamot had young relatives in attendance at the school, most of Wizarding Britain would know that Hagrid had been terminated (and why) by this time tomorrow. He would be rendered unemployable in Britain.

Nall strode over to the dragon keepers and spoke to their leader, a slender Asian man named Shih Lao. After a few quick words between the two and Charlie Weasley, Shih Lao walked over to the shocked Hagrid and addressed him.

"Mr. Hagrid," he began, "having been informed of your credentials and experience dealing with dangerous magical creatures, I would be honored to offer you employment at the Fiery Fields Dragon Preserve, effective immediately."

Hagrid, still stunned, looked at Shih Lao for a few seconds before the offer sunk in, then he was grinning widely, shaking his hand before he could change his mind, "Thank yeh, thank yeh, I won' let yer down!"

Albus heaved a sigh of relief. He had hated doing that to Hagrid, but the half-giant refused to be budged on the subject of his 'wee li'l spiders'. Yeah, 'wee li'l spiders' the size of horses. Albus looked at Nall and Charlie and mouthed, 'thank you' to them.

Moments later, a blonde dragon tamer named Joel Lilienkamp had whisked Hagrid away by Portkey to his new home, with the promise that Albus would have his personal effects packed and shipped to him. Once he was gone, Albus gestured to Lawrence Kettleburn, who was at the front of the crowd. He had been giving a lecture to his Care of Magical Creatures classes of all levels (and interested hangers-on, like the entire first-year Gryffindor class) about the trained dragons sitting at the edge of the forest.

"I know what you want, Albus," Lawrence said, "and my NEWT-Level students and I will handle the Gamekeeper duties until you can get a permanent replacement for Hagrid... but try not to get a half-giant this time, eh? They don't have the same sense of 'dangerous' as us mere humans."

"I'm sorry?"

"Very few of Hagrid's beasties could pose a threat to someone with a half-giant's constitution and resilience. 'Swhy he's so obtuse about those 'pets' of his. He forgets we're not as resilient as him."

"Ah, of course, Lawrence. Now, we should probably join the observation crowd. I believe our wing of dragon riders are ready to flame our acromantula problem."

All six dragons had been mounted. The lead rider, an Irishman named Sean Connell, raised his hand and the riders donned their flight helmets. The dragon preserve had maintained a 'wing' of dragons for decades who were trained to carry riders and flame animal infestations like the acromantula colony in the Forbidden Forest to prevent their spread. Seeing these dragons was a rare treat, and Albus had cancelled classes so the students could observe from the castle. As the faculty moved the student body back into the safe confines of the castle, Albus wished that Hagrid hadn't been so obstinate- at least not to the point where Albus was forced to fire the man in full view of the school. Oh well, at least Charlie and Nall had managed a quick solution that should make the half-giant happy.

After all, Hagrid always wanted a dragon.

CHAPTER END

A/N: Ten House Points to the first review that names the book I got the names for Charlie's fellow dragon handlers from.


	18. Legacies

**Taking Charge**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 18- Legacies

_1 March 1992_

_Glengairn Lodge, Scotland_

Andromeda Tonks, the Heiress of Gryffindor, stood with her husband Ted before what had become a labor of love fore them these past several weeks.

The fallout from the Thaddeus Nott case had been startling. Nott had not just been a child murderer and rapist- a detailed examination of his son Theodore and daughter Eowyn had revealed a heavily abusive upbringing. Both children had been beaten thoroughly and frequently since they were small. Coupled with the recent revelations of Harry Potter's upbringing by magic-hating Muggle relatives, and the common treatment of magical orphans by the children in Muggle orphanages, and the magical populace was appalled by their own lack of concern for their community's children.

Surprisingly, the main motivating forces behind this were two men that, as little as six months ago, nobody would have placed money on ever finding a common cause: Lucius Malfoy and Arthur Weasley. That these two men could put aside their differences on this issue practically guaranteed the passage of the Magical Child Welfare Reform Act of 1992. A new division in the DMLE, the Magical Child Welfare Division, was created, and Lucius had nominated Arthur Weasley as its first head, citing the man's record of fairness and years as a family man.

One of the things called for in the bill was the creation of a Magical Orphanage, there never having been one in Britain before. This was where Andromeda had stepped in. Surprisingly, of the Four Founders, only Gryffindor's estate still included any landed properties- but then, only Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had held noble titles and lands. As the Ravenclaw lands had become Hogwarts Castle and grounds, and placed under the control of the Board of Governors, that left Glengairn Lodge, the Gryffindor family estate.

Glengairn Lodge hadn't been inhabited for over three hundred years, but the stasis wards it was placed under when its last occupant died meant it was almost perfectly preserved. Thousands of Muggles visited the 'ruins' of the Lodge as a tourist attraction every year, not realizing that the actual Lodge sat two hundred meters east of the ruins, fully intact. Of course, the fact that even the hill it sat on was hidden from Muggle eyes helped that impression.

But, what made Glengairn Lodge perfect for this purpose was the fact that the large, vacant Manor house sat overlooking the Valley of Hogsmeade, with the Village a mere twenty-minute walk from the front door.

With a few strokes of the quill, Glengairn Lodge became the Glengairn Home for Magical Orphans, bringing in all magical orphans without magical family to care for them- including any Muggleborns who lived in abusive or magic-hating homes. Already, just gathering up these orphans and abused children from across magical Britain, the Glengairn Orphanage had thirty-one children aged eleven and younger under the care of its Matron, Molly Weasley, and her staff. At the end of the school year, another twelve Hogwarts-age students would be joining them for the summer, including first year students Theodore Nott and Sally-Ann Perks.

Andromeda looked upon the stately manor house, with happy children running around, laughing and screaming. Yes, this was the right thing to do with the last landed property owned by one of the Founders' estates. Somehow, she was sure Godric would have approved.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISCENE BREAKIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

It had taken time, but Dirk Cresswell thought it was time well-spent. Upon being confirmed as the Heir of Slytherin, he had gone through the Vault and found a treasure trove that had little to do with monetary value. Of particular interest amongst the artifacts and documents were a set of personal journals penned by Salazar Slytherin himself.

The fact that they refuted almost everything commonly believed about the Founder was hardly surprising to Cresswell- politics in particular had a tendency to distort history to support its own ends. Salazar Slytherin didn't hate Muggleborns, or First Generations as he called them- that would have been kind of silly considering he WAS one himself. The whole 'Witches-and-wizards-make-powerful-children' belief was actually started by his youngest son, Salazar the Younger, and mistakenly applied to the Founder centuries later when the Younger's beliefs were further distorted into the beginnings of the 'Pure-Blood' philosophy.

Salazar was also not a Dark Wizard. Quite the opposite. Oh, he studied the Dark Arts, true, but his reasons for doing so were more in line with learning how to effectively fight them, not practice them. Salazar had hated Dark Wizards with a passion, and had personally destroyed no less than three would-be Dark Lords before becoming a teacher. He had been Hogwarts' first Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and eventually founded an order of knights, the Dark Arts Defense League, which had been the forerunner of both the modern society of the same name and the modern Auror Department.

And now, in Salazar's own words, magical Britain, nay, the world, would know the truth about this much-maligned Founder. Translated and transcribed with painstaking care from Salazar's own journals, _Slytherin- The True Diary of a Founder _was about to go on sale for the first time amidst much fanfare at Flourish and Blott's Bookstore in Diagon Alley and Tomes and Scrolls Bookstore in Hogsmeade. Dirk Cresswell, Heir of Slytherin, could hardly wait for the controversy.

CHAPTER END

A/N: I thought we were due for a nice, peaceful interlude. Don't worry- the action will pick back up.


	19. Plans and Executions

**Taking Charge**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

A/N: I thank all my readers for reading. Positive reviews and constructive criticism are much appreciated. Anonymous reviewers are asked not to ask questions unless they sign in so I can respond. Flamers will be told to go to a very warm place and do the physically impossible once there.

Chapter 19: Plans and Executions

_11 March 1992_

_A Hunter's Lodge in Rural Lancashire_

_0432 am_

Mundungus 'Snake' Fletcher crept through the underbrush outside the home of Walden Macnair. Not his ancestral home- Walden's father Angus had stipulated in his will that if either of his sons was complicit in his death, that son was to receive nothing- a stipulation that was almost prophetic when Walden carved open his own father at the tender age of 16. Walden's younger brother Malcolm had become Head of Clan Macnair and Walden had fled, eventually throwing in his lot with the Death Eaters. He had been saved a long stay in Azkaban by the patronage of Thaddeus Nott, fellow psychopath, whohad been much more accomplished at maintaining a civilized facade than Walden- and also had the money available.

Walden had then become the executioner for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. While he now presented a better facade of civility than back in his youth, the man was still a murderer- he often took side jobs of murder-for-hire to satiate his bloodlust and fill his bank account. With Nott standing trial the day before (and being cast through the Veil of Death at midnight), Walden was the most psychotic Death Eater still at large.

Snake was here to change that. Today, while Nightshade and her husband were at the Ministry with rock-solid alibis, Snake was going to make certain that Macnair met an unfortunate 'accident' in a way that drew no suspicion.

After all, executing dangerous magical creatures with an axe was a hazardous job.

As Walden stepped forward from his front door, axe strapped to his back, he headed to a paddock east of the lodge to feed his illegal pet, an acromantula rescued from the Forbidden Forest just days before the Headmaster had had their nest burned out by the Romanian Dragon-riders. As Walden entered the paddock, Snake lifted his wand, pointed it at the horse-sized spider, and intoned, _"Imperio"._

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISCENE BREAKIIIIIIIIIIIIII

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry_

_Headmaster's Office_

_11 March 1992 _

_0801 am_

"Good morning, Mr. Potter! Lemon drop?"

"It's a little early for sweets, isn't it, Headmaster?"

"Indeed, Mr. Potter. Please, have a seat." Albus looked over his glasses at the young student in front of him. After a lackluster start, young Harry Potter had formed a close bond of friendship with his classmate Hermione Granger, who had had a positive effect on his study habits and grades. The falling-out between the lad and the perpetual slacker Ronald Weasley had also made him more social, without a loudmouthed immature child fighting to be his exclusive friend. Combined with a pleasant Christmas with his father's second cousin Andromeda Tonks and her family, he was flourishing, which warmed Albus's heart. He just might undo the damage his folly had caused to this boy.

"The reason I asked you here, Mr. Potter, is to see to your summer arrangements. Now, the Dursleys, it seems, have run into some legal problems and will be unable to house you this summer, and almost assuredly never again before you reach your majority and can live on your own." Albus twinkled at the thought of child-beater Vernon Dursley sharing accomodation with large, angry men who held notoriously dim views of child abusers. Vernon and Petunia had both been given five-year sentences, but were unlikely to survive them once their cellmates knew what they were in for. Vernon's sister Marge Dursley had taken in their son Dudley.

Chuckling at Harry's widening smile (honestly, the boy _must _be a Gryffindor if he's that bad at hiding his emotions), Albus continued, "Your 'Uncle Ted' and 'Aunt Andi' have expressed an interest in taking you in this summer, if that's agreeable with you?" At Harry's rapid nodding, Albus continued, "While you are there, you shall get to meet your godfather, a man named Sirius Black, who was wrongfully imprisoned without trial and has recently been found innocent. He is currently recovering from his ordeal, but should be right as rain by this coming Christmas. At that time, you will be offered a choice of staying with the Tonks family or moving in with Sirius during your school holidays."

"now, something that you may not be aware of isthat you have more of an inheritance than simply the trust vault that Hagrid took you to this past summer. Upon reaching the age of seventeen, you will gain full access to the Potter Trust, which includes large land holdings and a lucrative stock portfolio managed by the Goblins. Available to you now, however, is your family seat on the Wizengamot. As the only surviving blood member of the Honorable House of Potter, at age eleven your seat is taken out of receivership and you are allowed to appoint a proxy of your choice. You cannot sit your seat yourself until you are legally an adult at age seventeen."

"Did you have someone in mind, sir?"

"Indeed, Mr. Potter. I'd like you to meet your new tutor in Law and Government, Mr. Nalshay Glyphs." He indicated the man sitting against the wall, who waved to Harry cheerfully. "Mr. Glyphs is the Heir of Ravenclaw and current holder of my House's proxy, as my duties here at the school keep me far too busy to sit my family seat myself. He will be teaching you for two hours on Saturday mornings from nine to eleven, teaching you our laws, government and customs, in an effort to prepare you for what awaits you in adulthood. The Potters have long stood for justice and equal rights, traits we hope carried down to you."

Nall spoke up at this point. "Mr. Potter, one of the things I'd like to do with you is make certain you're informed as to what laws are being decided upon, and asking your opinion. We'll also be covering techniques for looking at both sides of the problem so you can come up with the solution that most suits you. I will then cast your vote as you direct. In essence, I will be your voice, and only act as you direct in the halls of government."

Harry nodded. "Hermione says I need to accept responsibility, that there will always be people who look up to 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' no matter how much I dislike that title, and I should use that fame to try and do some good in the world. I accept, Mr. Glyphs."

"Excellent, Mr. Potter. Now, I have to head down to the Wizengamot Records Office to get the proper forms for your proxy. We'll meet in the Great Hall after you finish breakfast on Saturday, then we'll start with the exciting world of parchmentwork!"

A synchronized eyeroll from Albus and Harry was Nall's only response as he headed for Albus's Floo connection.

END CHAPTER

A/N2: Well, the calm is over, next chapter brings on the storm... DUN DUN DUUUUUUN!


	20. Resurrection

**Taking Charge**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 20: Resurrection

_17 March 1992_

_Malfoy Manor_

_Rural Nottingham_

Lucius Abraxas Malfoy sat in his study, contemplating the fire, a glass of twelve-year-old scotch in his right hand. He had had several wake-up calls in recent months. He had originally joined the man named Tom Marvolo Riddle because he espoused a philosophy of respect for tradition. In a world that was attempting to advance and catch up to the nonmagical around them, Lucius was among several who had been frightened by change, and clung to the traditions of his father, seeking a return to the old ways. Riddle's honeyed words of tradition had brought him many followers.

Only once they were committed did things begin to change. Riddle became less stable, less sane. His appearance became less human as whispers began amongst his followers of Dark Rituals performed to ensure his own power and immortality.

Then came the day he struck down his right hand, Caractacus Burke. The day he declared himself Lord Voldemort. The day they were declared his Death Eaters.

Many Traditionalists abandoned him, only to be targeted for murder later. Harfang Longbottom and Charlus Potter were among those who paid for their 'betrayal' when they refused to bow down to his new agenda. Others, like Alastor Moody and Samuel Glyphs, began forming a core of Resistance around Albus Dumbledore to fight this madman. Those Death Eaters to frightened to openly defy Him were soon joined by the likes of Walden Macnair, Antonin Dolohov, and the LeStranges (who Lucius often thought of as the Three LeStooges, in reference to his father's favorite Muggle program). Psychopaths and murderers. People who cared nothing for the cause except as an excuse to kill.

Lucius had thought to put these events behind him after the self-proclaimed Dark Lord fell at the hands of an infant. Thaddeus Nott and Walden Macnair, however, had kept the 'Old Crowd' in line. While most of Voldemort's fanatical followers were rotting in Azkaban, those two remained at large and, through fear and intimidation, kept the former Death Eaters in line with the 'Pureblood Supremacist' agenda.

'Pureblood Supremacist' indeed. Call it what it was: genocide for the glory of a madman.

Now, however, things were changing. The Slytherin Massacre. Nott's child predatorial acts. The sudden deaths of Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Macnair. Albus Dumbledore shaking off whatever stupor had held him for decades and becoming active in calling for truth, justice, and the protection of the innocent.

The discovery, amongst several Dark artifacts the deceased Dark Lord had stored in his Manor, of a piece of Necromancy so foul, it made Lucius's skin crawl just touching it.

And the burning and darkening of the long-dormant Dark Mark on his arm.

The bastard was returning.

Lucius Malfoy glanced over at his desk. Upon it sat the charred remains of what was once a simple Muggle day diary, now with a hole burned through it by a Goblin-wrought dagger infused with Basilisk venom that he had bought years ago for self-defense. Beside it sat something even more gruesome.

A tattered chunk of human flesh, emblazoned with a pulsating tattoo of a snake emerging from the mouth of a skull.

Lucius glanced now down at his left arm, and the bloody bandage that covered the place where that flesh once sat.

He had made his choice.

The Sorting Hat, so many years ago, had declared him brave enough for Gryffindor, but a Slytherin first and foremost.

It was time to prove the old relic right.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISCENE BREAKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

_21 March 1992_

_Little Hangleton_

_A decrepit abandoned shack_

Peter Pettigrew lay upon the filthy floor, feeling the life drain from his body through the ring on his left forefinger. He contemplated the path that had brought him to this end.

That night in 1981 when he had betrayed the only true friends he had in the world for one reason and one reason alone-

Cowardice.

James and Lily died because he was a coward. Padfoot went to prison for a decade because he was a coward. He hid as a rat because he was a coward. He fled a revitalized Hogwarts before he could be detected because he was a coward.

His return to the Dark Lord out of fear of reprisal from Moony and Padfoot, of the Pronglet once he found out the truth.

And now, the disembodied Dark Lord had brought him to this place, directed him through the defenses, and instructed him to place the ring on his finger.

And that's when the draining began.

As Peter's vision began to blur, he saw the Dark Lord's form solidifying, becoming more real. He had been used. An expendible pawn, sacrificed to bring the Dark Lord, James's murderer, back to a physical body. A final betrayal.

Peter Aloysius Pettigrew's eyes closed for the final time, realizing that whatever Hell awaited him, was more than earned.

CHAPTER END

A/N: Sorry, couldn't do it. Lucius drifted too far from canon for me to keep him on the Dark path. Instead, I equated the Death Eaters to some of the more fanatical cults- they start out as legitimate political or religious movements, until some total whackjob gets himself put in charge, and they get in a stand-off with federal agents and kill dozens, including themselves. So, this time, Lucius will stand against the darkness.


	21. Wanderings & Werewolves

**Taking Charge**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 21: Wandering and Werewolves

_24 March 1992_

_Somewhere North of Inverness_

_0423 am_

Tom Marvolo Riddle, the self-styled Lord Voldemort, moved quietly through the woods, his tattered cloak pulled tight around him.

His resurrection had gone without a hitch, once he had an easily-duped minion to sacrifice. Directing Wormtail to the Horcrux in his grandfather's shack, then using his life force to activate the Horcrux bound to the Resurrection Stone, and the experienced mind of the seventy-something Voldemort was back in his restored twenty-something body.

He'd forgotten what it was like to have hair. And a nose. He missed his fangs though.

The ring now sat on his finger. Without his wand, and Wormtail's having been broken during his death-throes, he had been forced to bring the Horcrux with him, rather than leave it unprotected in the shack. He'd immediately headed across the valley to his father's old manor house, the location of one of his hidden stockpiles-

-only to find the place burned to the ground. Apparently recently, judging by the lack of weeds in the rubble.

Thinking nothing of this, he'd apparated to northern Scotland, intending to make his way to an abandoned Death Eater property: the former home of the late Oglethorpe Avery. It had become another of his hidden stockpiles after the man's death in 1979, a place that, among other things, included a pair of spare 'not-quite-a-match' wands.

His yew-and-phoenix-feather wand was missing. Probably picked up and destroyed by the Ministry at the Potter House in Godric's Hollow. Until he could get a new matched wand, a spare would have to do. He knew that some of his followers were reluctant, and he dare not approach any of them without a wand, to ensure their cooperation. Wandless magic was notoriously unreliable, and Riddle had never learned to fight Muggle style.

He had to keep to the shadows, avoid places where wizards might go, until he was armed. Some of his old 'friends' might not be inclined toward a friendly chat if they recognized him. Heck, his old roommate Alastor would probably hex first, hex later, hex some more, then not bother with questions.

Honestly, you cut off a man's leg and he holds a grudge forever. He still had another one.

The wards were down. Not exhausted or collapsed. Torn down. Someone had been through here in a hurry.

Gliding forward even more cautiously, he saw the still-smoking rubble of what was once an impressive fieldstone house. The fire was out, but the smoke still rose. This fire had happened in the last day at most.

Wards ripped down. Two of his stockpiles destroyed, recently.

Tom Riddle had a bad feeling about this.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISCE NE BREAKIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

_27 March 1992_

_An Unplottable Island off the Coast of Wales_

Remus John Lupin stood outside his tent, a warm mug of coffee in his hand, watching the sunrise. Life was better than it had been for him in a long time.

Infected with Lycanthropy at the tender age of five, he had had a hard life, being ridiculed and hated for something he'd had no control over. At the age of eleven, he had attended Hogwarts School, the only student in history to attend while infected. There he'd met some great friends, James Potter, Sirius Black, Frank Longbottom, Lily Evans.

It was one of these friends who had been responsible for Remus's new situation. On February thirteenth, he'd stopped at Hogwarts to speak to his old Charms Professor, Filius Flitwick. Filius and another faculty member, Penny Flamel, had hunted down and slain Fenrir Greyback, turning in his bounty to the school to buy new broomsticks for student use.

That they had slain the psychopath who had Turned young Remus had him bringing a bottle of 1929 Glenfidditch he'd secreted away for this occasion, a gift to the man who had avenged him. Over drinks, Filius and Penny had brought Remus up to date on the happenings in the fight against the Darkness. He'd seen Harry for the first time since James and Lily died. The boy, once told of Remus's condition, had understood why he stayed away, and forgiven him, calling him 'Unca Mooey' just because Remus had admitted to Harry calling him that as a baby.

Filius had then told him of the exoneration of Sirius Black. He had pointed his Floo at Ted Tonks's Clinic and practically shoved him through.

Sirius had forgiven his packmate before he'd even stammered out an apology. He then proposed a job for which Remus was ideally suited. Upon becoming Lord Black, Sirius had found, among his property holdings, an Unplottable and uninhabited island roughly halfway between the Isle of Mann and the Welsh coast. He proposed a use for this land.

Remus would contact the various werewolf packs and bring them there. The land would be dedicated as the Hunter's Claw Sanctuary, an entire island for the weres to call their own. Here they could build a town, plant crops, tend livestock, fish- and live their lives.

After all, why try to integrate into a society that hates and fears you for something beyond your control, when you had enough of your own kind to say "screw 'em" and build your own society.

With Greyback dead and his more violent Betas having slaughtered each other during their squabbles to take over the vacant Alpha position, most of the remaining Weres were common everyday people who just wanted to live their lives. Almost every Were in Britain and Ireland now lived on the Isle of Hunter's Claw, and the packs were becoming a community. Remus had been unanimously elected the first Governor of Hunter's Claw.

Yesterday, they had put the finishing touches on the main tavern, The Blue Moon. Today, they were raising the steeple for the town's Anglican church (Christianity being, oddly, far more common amongst Weres than amongst ordinary wizards). Once the public buildings were standing, they would start on private homes. Until then, Sirius had provided hundreds of wizard tents for them to live in.

A home of their own, built by their own hands. Already, fields had been plowed and seeded, livestock fenced in. Remus watched as two small fishing boats headed out in the early light for the morning catch. A community built to be self-sustaining.

Feeling a gentle hand on his back, Remus turned to the brown-haired woman beside him, her own coffee steaming. Rebecca Kincaid had been a fully-qualified Healer before she was infected five years ago. Now, here, she could practice her craft again. She had been keeping company with Remus since she arrived, their quiet, studious natures meshing well with each other. They were not official, only casual thus far, but Remus had a feeling that someday, Father Mike Flaherty (Ordained 1977, Infected 1986) would be pronouncing them husband and wife.

Yes, life was good for Remus Lupin.

CHAPTER END

A/N: Can't believe I forgot Remus this long. Well, how's this for the werewolves? An island sanctuary where they can run free on the full moon without infecting anyone. Don't worry, Voldie will get a wand- eventually. For now he's a menace lurking in the dark, not ready to strike.


	22. Sins of the Father

**Taking Charge**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 22: Sins of the Father

_29 March 1992_

_Azkaban Prison_

_Visitor's Room 3_

_1632 pm_

The young girl crossed her arms, nervous about this meeting. It had been quite unexpected when the Headmaster asked all Hogwarts students, at his expense, to take an Inheritance test to determine if they could lay claim to any unclaimed vaults or estates. Not really expecting anything, she had gone ahead with the ritual.

The first names kicked out- her parents- were most certainly not the people she had called Mum and Dad all her life. In fact, the names given for her birth parents were almost as ugly a shock as any could imagine.

Her 'parents' had told her that they had intended to tell her she was adopted when she turned 18. They weren't sure she could handle it before then.

But now, the young girl sat here in Azkaban Prison, waiting on a meeting, arranged by the Headmaster, to speak to the last surviving member of her father's family. To learn of her heritage.

She already knew the bitter. She was hoping there was some redeeming sweet in the family history.

The door opened. An Auror ushered in a dark-haired, dark-eyed man. He was only in his mid-30s, but his time in Azkaban made him look easily a decade older. He looked up for the first time after he seated himself, and looked startled.

"Hello, Uncle."

"Hermy? Little Hermy? You're alive?"

Hermione Jean Granger, born Hermione Athena LeStrange, looked at the ruined face of her Uncle Rabastan Erik LeStrange for the first time she could remember.

IIIIIIIIIIIIITIME BREAKIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Fifty-two minutes later, Hermione had brought her Uncle up to speed on her life. He had spoken of his as well; including the changes that had overcome Tom Riddle and turned a once-peaceful political movement into a violent cult. 'Uncle Stan', as he told her to call him, had wanted out for years, but his brother was a sadistic man, who had broken Bella's mind by torturing her in the bedroom. The one time he had tried to flee, Rodolphus had caught him, tortured him, then presented him to the Dark Lord to be tortured more. Bella had tried to flee as well- with similar results.

"Little One," Uncle Stan began, "Whatever else you hear about your mother- most will be true- you remember this one fact: she loved you with her whole heart. You were the reason she didn't just crawl into a corner and die so many times. She refused to give up, knowing that you would be left to your father's cruelty. When your father took us to attack the Longbottoms, she left you with her sister, your Aunt Narcissa. She begged Narcissa to put you up for adoption in the Muggle world if she didn't come back- anything to ensure you weren't left to your father's abuse without your mother to shield you. When the guards at Azkaban told her you had vanished, she took comfort in knowing you were safe. It was all that kept her going in this hellhole."

"Now," he said, turning to the seemingly empty corner, " I'd like to speak to the man behind the curtain."

A ripple in the air, and Albus Dumbledore removed his Invisibility Cloak. After all, leaving a twelve-year-old girl alone with a convicted killer was never a good idea.

"Headmaster," Rabastan said, "I know I will never leave this island alive. I wish to formally forswear any claim to the LeStrange estates in favour of my niece, Hermione. Get my vault key from my personal effects- it's hers now. When you take her to Gringotts to claim it however, make certain a curse-breaker goes with you. My 'dear' brother kept some pretty nasty things in that vault- things that should be destroyed. Included are some artifacts of the Dark Lord that were entrusted to my brother to safeguard. Promise me she will touch nothing until Gringotts certifies it safe."

"I promise, Mr. LeStrange," Dumbledore intoned.

"Little One," Rabastan turned to his niece, "It is yours to do with as you will. Invest it, give it away, I don't care- but promise me that the Dark Lord will receive no further support or succor from our house."

"I promise," Hermione replied.

A knock at the door, and an Auror poked his head in. "Sorry, Headmaster, but the hour is up."

Rabastan rose, nodding to the Headmaster, and looked Hermione in the eye. "Don't come back here, Little One- this is no fit place for a child. Live your life, and know that you were loved." He turned and presented his wrists to the Auror for shackling, and departed.

Albus turned to his student. "Well, Miss Granger, was this the closure you sought?"

Hermione could feel the tears flow down her cheeks, but did nothing to stem them. "She loved me. She was a cruel, dangerous psychopath, but she still loved me and shielded me from the monster she was forced to marry. I never knew her, but she loved me."

Lending the girl support as they exited the prison, Albus replied, "Alas, Miss Granger, as you grow older you will come to realize that little in this world is black and white. Every person has some light and some dark in them. It is our choices- the path we walk- that ultimately decides if we will be saints, sinners, or somewhere between."

"When did you realize this, Headmaster? Was your revelation such a brutal shock?"

Albus smiled sadly. "Indeed, Miss Granger. Let me tell you the story of my youth, and the folly I committed when I first met a young man named Gellert Grindelwald..."

_Hogwarts Front Lawn_

_Later that Evening_

Hermione Granger and Harry Potter sat under a beech tree, Harry's arm around her shoulder as she quietly mourned the mother she never knew. As she looked up at her friend, she saw only concern in his eyes.

"Hermione, it doesn't matter what your parents did. You are your own person. I swear I will stand by you. I will not abandon you. You are my friend."

"Promise?"

"Yep. You're stuck with me, Granger."

Movement on Hermione's other side, accompanied by a gentle hand on her back, caused her to turn and see the face of Neville Longbottom.

But the hate wasn't there. No anger, or fury, as was his right. Just quiet concern.

"Neville, how...? How can you not hate me?"

"Gran always said that you cannot fault the child for the sins of their father- that our own sins are burden enough. Harry's right. You are not your mother, or your father, or your uncle. You are Hermione- my friend. An ugly truth about your past doesn't change that."

As one, the three Gryffindors turned and watched the last dwindling rays of sunlight as the sun set beyond the hills.

CHAPTER END


	23. A Lesson in Magical Creatures

**Taking Charge**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 23: A Lesson in Magical Creatures

_5 April 1992_

_Ottery St. Catchpole, Devonshire_

_Sometime Between Breakfast & Lunch_

_Day 3 of the Festival of Humdingers_

Tom Riddle was a very worried Dark Lord. He had checked five different safe-houses before finding one untouched. The first five had been raided, and either burned to the ground or looted to the bedrock. The sixth, the one in Devonshire, was the first he had gotten to before his mysterious opponents.

Too many of his preparations had been disrupted for it to be a coincidence. Someone was actively hunting him, actively searching for his hideouts and destroying them.

A trip to the cave where he had hidden the Locket had proven fruitless- a fake had been left in its place, along with a note signed by Regulus Black. A probe of the lake-bed had shown the traitor's corpse rotting on the bottom, so he was even denied revenge.

And the Locket was not there.

Regulus had had at least one accomplice, who had escaped with the prize.

Nagini still hadn't reported in. She had been hibernating in the Hangleton safehouse when he was cast out of his body. The lack of a corpse had given him hope she had escaped the fire. But now he was starting to wonder if she had been captured instead.

Tom looked with disgust at the wand in his hand. He hadn't kept spare wands at the Devonshire safehouse, but one of his Death Eaters had gotten careless and left his 'disposable' behind. This wand, unicorn hair and cherry, was a poor match, but better than nothing.

The ring was no longer a Horcrux. Using the Horcrux in the manner he did to come back used it up, and the soul fragment had been re-integrated into his own soul. Worse, he discovered one of the other consequences of coming back by this method: He couldn't make any more. His existing Horcruxes were all he could have.

The Ring expended, the Locket and Nagini missing, the Diadem and Cup unattainable at the moment, and the Diary in the hands of a man he dare not approach until he had a matched wand.

It was not looking good.

Tom Riddle needed information. Obviously something was actively hunting him. Not Dumbledore- the man didn't have the spine to be proactive. Potter was still too young. This new player was ruthless and efficient: someone to be wary of.

The best source of information he could think of was a newspaperman- they always knew more than they printed. Right here in Devonshire was the home of Xenophilius Lovegood, editor of the _Quibbler._ The man had a daughter, who Riddle could use as a hostage to ensure the editor's cooperation.

Hearing the giggles of little girls at play, Tom Riddle moved towards a clearing in the woods.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIISCENE BREAKIIIIIIIIIIIII

Luna Lovegood and her friend Ginny Weasley danced and laughed in the flower circle, their steps accompanied by haunting melodies seemingly from nowhere and a collection of small, foxlike creatures with multiple tails.

A Japanese wizard would have identified the creatures as kitsune, while wondering why they were so far from their native Japan.

Luna preferred to call them Blibbering Humdingers. The creatures didn't seem to mind.

The two little witches were celebrating the third day of what Luna called 'The Festival of the Humdinger', throwing flowers in the air and dancing under them, as the Humdingers used their magic to bless them with quickness and cleverness.

Alas, their joyful playing was interrupted when a black-clad man leapt into the circle and grabbed little Luna by the neck. Ginny shrieked, the Humdingers hissed, and Luna struggled.

"Easy there, little hostage," the man whispered, though loud enough that Ginny could still hear him. "I need you alive if I'm to convince your father to give me what I need."

Luna loosened his hand long enough to cry out, "MIKA!"

Suddenly, the ground shook as something landed behind Tom with a resounding THUMP. Seeing the little redhead looking behind him in shock, he turned suddenly...

...and looked up.

A grown man should not have to look up to look a rabbit in the eye. Even a rabbit with a twisted unicorn horn standing on its hind legs.

Glaring with red eyes at him.

Riddle, stunned for the first time in a long time, released the Lovegood girl without realizing it. As Luna sprinted over to Ginny, the giant rabbit-thing snarled.

A somewhat disconcerting sight on the face of a rabbit. Particularly one with sharklike teeth.

With a roar that would have made more sense coming from a werewolf, the rabbit-demon leapt forward, its teeth coming down on Riddle's wand, snapping it in half. Disarmed, Riddle fled, his mind running even faster: _"What the devil was that?! What has been going on while I was gone?!"_

Once Riddle was into the treeline, the rabbit-thing settled onto all fours and suddenly looked sweet and docile, like a rabbit should. The horn and giant size was still a bit disconcerting, though.

"Luna? What IS that?"

"Oh, Mika?" Luna looked up from where she was cuddling the giant rabbit around the neck. "I forgot I hadn't introduced her to you. Mika's a Crumple-Horned Snorkack- my familiar. She's a faerie creature, so she's invisible most of the time, unless she wants to be seen."

"Can I... touch her?"

"Sure! Mika's very nice. She's only mean to people who try to hurt me."

The two girls spent the rest of the day cuddling the Snorkack and playing with the Humdingers, even sharing a picnic lunch with them, all thoughts of the scary man in black chased from their minds, until they were called in to dinner.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIISCENE BREAKIIIIIIIIIIII

_Same Day_

_Ministry of Magic_

_Department for Regulation & Control of Magical Creatures_

_About Two-ish_

Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank, Assistant Director of the Department for Regulation & Control of Magical Creatures, entered the enclosure where one of her agents, Simon Ridgefield, currently was holding their latest curiosity.

"What is it, Simon?"

"Caught this nasty piece of serpent outside Cornwall, ma'am. Was apparently a bog-standard viper at one point, but someone was experimenting with it. Bigger, nastier, and reeking of Dark Magicks I can't even identify."

"Well, can't have that sort of thing running loose where the Muggles might find it. Document the creature in case we find the sicko who made it, then put the creature to death."

"Yes, ma'am."

Nagini, bound in the enclosure, watched the humans converse. She didn't understand a word they said, but had a bad feeling about what was decided.

CHAPTER END


	24. Containment Breach

**Taking Charge**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 24: Containment Breach

_12 April 1992_

_Ministry of Magic_

_Department for the Regulation & Control of Magical Creatures_

_Midmorning_

Broderick Bode, Deputy Director of Research of the Department of Mysteries, strolled into the office where his wife's sister, Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank, stood with two other members of her department. Behind them was a table bearing the partially-dismembered corpse of an obviously mutated snake.

"What's the emergency, Wili?"

"Unexpected wrinkle, Rick. We captured a mutant viper tainted with Dark magic. After documenting it, we followed protocol and put it to death, only to find the Dark Aura wasn't dissipating. Our autopsy found an object embedded in its flesh that had me calling you."

Bode pulled his wand and approached the table. There, sitting on the table, was an old-style cloak-clasp, the kind once worn by noblemen during the Dark Ages. The blood stains made the crest only partially visible, and therefore unidentifiable. His wand twitched as he scanned the device.

"Dark indeed. A necromantic ritual was performed about twenty years ago to turn this into a Horcrux. Just let me document these readings..." A scroll popped into existence next to the clasp and rapidly began filling itself in, with no visible writing implement. Once it finished, Bode stated, "Standard protocol calls for the destruction of all Horcruxes when found, so..." He pulled a sealed vial from his robes, removed the lid (which consisted of a Muggle-style eyedropper), and dropped a clear liquid onto the clasp. A hissing, some steam, and suddenly a shriek as a cloudy form rose from it. Bode wasn't the only one to recognize what just rose from the clasp.

"Th-that was Y-y-You-Know-Who!" said one of Grubbly-Plank's assistants.

"Indeed," stated Bode. "I'm going to have to insist that none of you mention this to anyone. I'm declaring this event classified. If people found out the Dark Lord wasn't truly dead, there would be panic and chaos in the streets. Wili, you and I need to report this to Croaker, Bones and the Minister, right away." Having used a drop from another vial on the clasp while he was talking, the hissing had now stopped and he picked up the clasp. While the clasp was damaged, the first liquid had burned away the stray blood, and the crest on the clasp was clearly visible: A rampant gold lion holding a sword, over a scroll which read _"Fortuna Audaces Iuvat"._

Bode stared, awestruck, at the history he held in his hand. "Gryffindor..."

_Same Day_

_Malfoy Estate Outside Nottingham_

_Sometime After Lunch_

George Goyle was immersed in his work. He had always known he was no intellectual (heck, he had to pronounce _intellectual _slowly to get it right), and had probably been less surprised than his father when he flunked out of Hogwarts his second year (after needing three tries to pass first year). Fortunately, his father's old friend Abraxas Malfoy had found work for the large near-Squib. George Goyle had been the Malfoy family groundskeeper for the last thirty years. Having steady work he could actually do well had led to him finding a wife- Karyn, the family Mediwitch- and having three wonderful children.

George sighed, planting the tip of his spade in the dirt where he was planting a seedling apple tree. He had buried his middle child, his lovely Natalie, not long ago, at the tender age of eight. A man, whom he had trusted, had taken his princess, raped her, and murdered her. Had it not been for his boss's old associate, the mystery man named Snake, they never would have caught the bastard. Still, vengeance was a hollow replacement for your daughter's hugs and ringing laughter.

George was glad his oldest son was doing better than he did at Hogwarts. He wasn't top of the class, but he was doing well enough that he would most likely pass his classes and graduate from first year on the first try. His youngest, Evan, was a mere nine months old, and being tended at their cottage by his wife.

Suddenly, George heard a snap. Instantly alert, George hefted his shovel, scanning the area.

There. A hooded and cloaked figure was moving through the trees to his east.

A welcome visitor would have used the front door. Intruders snuck through the woods.

George slipped behind a mature apple tree nearby, alongside the intruder's path. As the intruder camelevel with him, his shovel swung out, the flat striking the intruder full in the face.

The intruder hit the ground, wand in his right hand snapping out and firing off a spell chain which George easily dodged. George was no master duelist, but his job made him physically fit, and he was a firm believer in _they can't hurt what they can't hit._

Suddenly, the Dark Mark that had been forced on him over a decade ago flared on his arm, fouling his swing at the intruder's head. Grunting in pain, George was forced to drop the spade and swung at the rising figure's face.

"Ahhh, Goyle, you shouldn't be so hostile to your master."

George's blood froze. The voice was younger sounding, but there was no mistaking it.

Voldemort.

The man who had enslaved him.

The man who had trusted Nott.

The man who was ultimately responsible for that child-killer walking free.

With a roar, Goyle seized the Dark Lord's wand arm by the wrist, twisting it until he heard a sickening _crack._ Tearing free, the Dark Lord switched his wand to his off-hand. It had taken three days and four attempts to recover another substitute wand after that debacle with the Lovegood chit, and he would make this oaf pay for defying _Him!_

Riddle never saw the Bludgeoner coming at him until it hit his shoulder, driving him away from George, who had finally collapsed from his Dark Mark's pain signals. Turning, Riddle saw Lucius Malfoy standing twenty feet away, wand spitting out more curses at his former master.

Angered, Riddle mentally activated the pain signals in Lucius's Dark Mark- and was surprised when Lucius didn't falter.

Smirking at him, Lucius raised his left arm to the side, displaying the thick bandages swathing his forearm.

He had removed his Mark.

Snarling in fury, he launched a spell chain of curses at his former minion, fully engaging in combat with the cunning and capable Slytherin. The two were quickly in a stalemate.

Except, Riddle had forgotten about George.

A mistake made obvious when the large man swung his spade into Riddle's knee, sending him sprawling, his wand slipping from his fingers.

He scrambled for his wand, only to have Goyle's spade come down, edge first, across the stick, snapping it in half.

Seeing the writing on the wall, Riddle apparated away.

Lucius quickly went over to Goyle, kneeling beside his prone friend. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," George replied, "I'll be fine. We gotta warn someone. He's back."

"I know, George, I know," Lucius replied, moving to help the larger man stand.

_Ministry of Magic_

_Minister's Office_

_Less than an hour later_

Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, was embroiled in a bitter argument with several senior Ministry officials- His Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge, DMLE Director Amelia Bones, Department of Mysteries Director Algernon Croaker, on of his subordinates Broderick Bode, Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank from Magical Creatures, and Chief Witch Augusta Longbottom.

"He CANNOT be back, I say! The Dark Lord is DEAD! I will not hear any more of this!"

Cornelius was interrupted by his door flying open, admitting Wizengamot member Lucius Malfoy and a large (and obviously injured) man who the assembled group only vaguely recognized. All had their attention on Lucius when he dropped his bombshell.

"The Dark Lord has returned."

Fudge plopped into his seat with a loud thunk.

"Bugger."

A/N: Gryffindor family Motto: _Fortuna Audaces Iuvat-_ Fortune Favors the Bold.


	25. The Great(?) Escape

**Taking Charge**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 25: The Great(?) Escape

_23 April 1992_

_Azkaban Island_

_Sometime After Sunset_

Rabastan LeStrange sat in his cell, leaning against the bars of his door, sharpening a shard of wood he'd pried off the underside of his bed. Meeting his niece had re-invigorated him: he was going to do some good before he shuffled off this mortal coil. The Dark Mark was at full strength on his arm, which meant only one thing-

The Dark Lord had returned to corporeal form.

Many people overlooked the younger LeStrange brother, not realizing he was probably one of the most intelligent Death Eaters in the lot. But then, he _had _received more than one pounding for being Sorted Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin like his brother. So, he had picked up a Slytherin talent of hiding his true capabilities. He had known that Tom Riddle was slipping into madness even before he declared himself Lord Voldemort- would have left, too, if his brother hadn't caught him and forced him back. Now, Rodolphus was gone.

Rabastan smiled at that. A simple piece of wire was all that was needed to pick the locks on the cell doors- and strangling his brother and stringing him up had gone perfectly smoothly. Because of his timing, the guards didn't even question his 'suicide'- simply assumed it was in grief for his recently-departed wife.

They'd throw a wobbly if they knew how easily Rabastan LeStrange could slip in and out of cells.

Now, he was preparing a final act against the Dark Lord. Rabastan knew that sooner or later Lord Snake-faced Bastard would be here to break out his 'faithful' and add them to his army.

Rabastan LeStrange planned for him to find that the cupboard was bare.

Suddenly, movement caught his eye across the hall, in the cell of Augustus Rookwood. A shadowy figure, clad in form-fitting black from head to toe (and therefore obviously female), stooped over Augustus in his 'bed' and dropped a few clear drops of something in his mouth. Augustus shuddered, sighed- and died.

Poison. Rabastan had just witnessed an assassination.

A muffled boom came from down the hall. The shadowed figure looked up, right into Rabastan's eye. He held a finger to his mouth, indicating quiet, then pointed in the direction of the blast. The figure nodded, stepped to the cell wall farthest from the blast-

and then through it.

_Huh. _Rabastan thought. He'd read descriptions of this effect before. _Guess the Bolsheviks didn't get ALL the Romanovs after all._

A blast, louder this time, hit the far gate at the end of the hall.

And he was there.

Voldemort.

Rabastan had run out of time.

Surrounded by Dementors, Tom Marvolo Riddle marched down the hall, using his (latest) wand to rip cell doors away, freeing his 'faithful'. Rabastan, not wanting his true allegiance discovered yet, scrambled to hide his wooden stake, and waiting for his moment.

Looking around, Rabastan realized that, except for him, these _were _Voldemort's faithful. Antonin Dolohov. St John Mulciber. Thorfinn Rowle. Amycus Carrow. Alecto Carrow. Simon Trent. The _true _Inner Circle. Riddle, of course, couldn't just leave with his freed minions. No, he had to monologue. After a few minutes of pontificating his own greatness, Riddle led them towards the boats-

-and Rabastan struck.

He quickly drove his crude stake through Mulciber's back, piercing his heart. Before anyone could react, his wand, taken from the Kissed corpse of an Azkaban guard, flashed twice, piercing hexes sending Amycus and Trent to the ground, bleeding to death. Riddle screamed, "Traitor! Kill him!", and the Dementors swooped down upon him. Feeling himself grabbed by the nearest, as his maniacally-thrusting wand-hand plunged into its stomach, he felt his soul beginning to slide from his body into the fell beast's maw. In desperation, he summoned his only cheerful thought-

Hermione.

His niece.

A girl who had grown up into a truly good and caring person, in the care of her adoptive Muggle parents.

She who would make their House something decent and good.

_"Expecto- Patronum."_

The Dementor stopped. Rabastan, his soul half-in and half-out of his body, was in heavy pain. The creature's midsection began to glow, bulge-

-and the fell demon shrieked in pain.

This was all the warning Riddle had to grab Dolohov, Rowle and Alecto and Portkey away-

-before the eastern half of Azkaban Prison was engulfed in a pure white explosion.

_Somewhere in Northern Scotland's Moors_

_Just before Midnight, Same Day_

Riddle and his three surviving escapee Death Eaters were recovering from a Portkey that had been ripped sideways out of their trip through the ether. They were supposed to end up in a hidden cave in the Hebrides, but hadn't even gotten halfway there. The explosion of the Dementor had ripped through both the physical and spiritual realms, causing all kinds of havoc. Riddle was the only one of the escapees whose magic was acting anywhere close to normal. None of the Dementors had come with them. Riddle didn't know if they had abandoned them, or were dead, or some other reason.

Riddle was suddenly yanked out of his musings by the shriek of Alecto Carrow, curling in pain. This was quickly echoed by Rowle and Dolohov. Throwing a quick scan, Riddle's blood ran cold-

- an exploding hex. Tied to the Azkaban wards. His people were about to die.

Riddle leapt over by Dolohov, the closest. His wand flashing quickly, he tried desperately to remove the hex before the point of no return. He vaguely heard first Alecto, then Rowle, as they exploded with dull _whumps. _Finally, he tore the curse free from Dolohov, and the Mad Russian collapsed into unconsciousness, but still alive.

Riddle quickly joined him, exhausted, sleeping in the grasses of the moor.


	26. In the Shadows of Azkaban

**Taking Charge**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 26: In the Shadows of Azkaban

_24 April 1992_

_Azkaban Ruins_

_Shortly Before Dawn_

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore stood on the docks, watching gravely as Aurors and emergency personnel rushed about the ruined Fortress of Azkaban. Albus could have told them it was a lost cause- the Fortress was far too damaged to salvage. He had been pulled out of bed by an emergency floo call around midnight, by a panicking Cornelius Fudge. As the recently-retired Chief Warlock, Fudge had required his presence at what he was deeming a national emergency. Surrounding Albus and Fudge were several other senior Ministry personnel- DMLE Director Amelia Bones, Chief Auror Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, Head Unspeakable Algernon Croaker, Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge, Chief Witch Augusta Longbottom, and (because of the Dementors) Director Amos Diggory of Magical Creatures. A combined force of all of their departments was combing through the rubble, searching for survivors and identifying corpses to check off their tallies.

The Dementors had fled. Considering this blast had originated from Rabastan LeStrange managing to cast a Patronus _inside _a Dementor (they had figured that much out, but had no idea why he had done so), the survivors fleeing the prison was understandable even as it was maddening. The foulest form of undead were now roaming free of control, and they didn't even have a solid count as to how many survived!

Three other Death Eater corpses had been identified, two having been killed by Rabastan's magical signature- Simon Trent and Amycus Carrow. St John Mulciber, the third corpse, had a length of sharpened wood shoved through his heart from behind. That none of these men were anywhere near their cells indicated a jailbreak in progress. Four other Death Eaters were currently unaccounted for: Alecto Carrow, Thorfinn Rowle, Augustus Rookwood, and Antonin Dolohov. Albus feared the chaos and destruction these monsters could inflict if they were free once more.

Shouts from the rubble drew his attention. Senior Auror Rufus Scrimgeour was receiving a report from one of his subordinates- Kingsley Shacklebolt. Albus recalled Kingsley visiting Hogwarts a few months ago when an Inheritance ritual determined a 'Muggle-Born' Gryffindor, Dean Thomas, was the birth son of Kingsley's deceased older brother Marcus. Dean had been conceived but not born when Auror Marcus Shacklebolt had died during the Voldemort War. Apparently, his wife Narina had not known he was a wizard, nor had she (yet) told Dean that James Thomas was, in fact, his _step-_father. The reunion had been tearful- Kingsley's family had known Marcus was married and expecting a son, but didn't know their identities when he died. Kingsley's Head of House, his grandfather Roderick Shacklebolt, had been contacted at the family home in Jamaica and added Dean to the family tree, officially listing his great-grandson as a 'Half-Blood' in Ministry and school records.

Scrimgeour's approach snapped Albus out of his woolgathering. Walking over to the chalkboard Albus had conjured, containing the names of all the prisoners and human guards that were supposed to be in the prison at the time of the explosion, he picked up the red chalk (indicating 'dead') and crossed off five names- the last one being Augustus Rookwood. With a nod to his superiors, he returned to his station, helping clear rubble from the main guard barracks.

Albus heaved a sigh of relief, one echoed by Amelia Bones and Algernon Croaker. Of the Death Eaters unaccounted for, Rookwood was the one Albus most dreaded as a free man. Highly intelligent, cunning, and sociopathic, he would have been a rallying point for the 'True' Death Eaters if Voldemort were gone for good. With the former Unspeakable confirmed dead, the other three were less dangerous- all were hardened killers, but none had a lick of cunning or subtlety in them. They were berserkers, obvious threats, with little to no control, but completely unable to plan without a leader to force them to maximize their targets. They were grunts and wand-fodder. Rookwood had been a leader.

Albus knew, however, that this was still very much a problem. Lucius Malfoy had confirmed earlier that month that the Dark Lord Voldemort had returned to corporeal form. The ritual, still scheduled for the Summer Solstice, wouldn't kill him, but it would render him mortal through the destruction of all his existing Horcruxes. Lucius had provided a Diary entrusted to him by Riddle, and the Magical Creatures Department had recovered a cloak clasp belonging to Godric Gryffindor. Both were confirmed as destroyed Horcruxes. The goblins had the Diadem of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff's Chalice, recovered from the LeStrange vault by the (now) last living LeStrange Hermione Granger, and would use one in the ritual and the other to confirm their destruction. Riddle wasn't exactly having an easy time, but they had no idea what he was doing in the shadows.

Hearing the sound of an approaching broom, Albus turned to see his House Proxy, Nall Glyphs, sitting astride an American-Made Silver Eagle Mark V broomstick, approaching slowly. While not as skilled a curse-breaker as his father, Nall was a qualified magical forensics tech, and had volunteered his services for this investigation.

"Nall," began Albus, drawing the attention of the senior Ministry personnel. "What have you found?"

"Well," Nall began, "I got a portkey trace leaving the island, headed east. One of the other techs is tracking the endpoint, because the blast sent them off-course."

"Preposterous," huffed Umbridge, "Nothing can divert a portkey in flight."

"Nothing can cause a Dementor to explode either," Nall responded sarcastically. "We're still trying to figure out the full effect of the explosion. Who knows what laws of magic we've just seen broken?"

"You were saying, Lord Ravenclaw?" Amelia Bones interrupted, both to get the conversation back on course and remind the argumentative Umbridge that the 'upstart Colonial' she was arguing with was a Founder's Heir.

"The portkey trace contained four magical signatures. The files identified them as Antonin Dolohov, Thorfinn Rowle, Alecto Carrow and Tom Marvolo Riddle."

Albus pinched the bridge of his nose. This confirmation that Voldemort was behind the breakout was disturbing. They needed to come up with a plan of attack. Then, it struck him.

"If I may suggest a course of action?"

"You may suggest, Albus," Madame Longbottom replied, "We'll decide if we want to use your suggestion."

"Fair enough," Albus responded, wishing he was on better terms with the old battle-axe. "None of us want to cause a panic by stating that Voldemort has returned. However, this situation allows us to put the people on guard without stating that. We release a press bulletin in the papers and on the Wizarding Wireless Network that a mysterious explosion has destroyed part of Azkaban Prison, and that several inmates are unaccounted for, as well as several Dementors. We warn the populace to be on the look-out and take sensible precautions as to the situation. The people are warned without giving a statement that will incite panic."

The politicos looked back and forth, nods and shrugs indicating no one had a better idea. "All right, Albus," Fudge replied, "I'll send Dolores back to the Ministry to prepare the release. If she hurries, we can get the announcement out before the morning Prophet." Umbridge nodded, then waddled off toward the Apparition Point, before disappearing with a loud CRACK.

"Also," Nall continued wryly, "I've got a count on the surviving Dementors. Eighteen fled south from the island- a different direction from Tommy Boy and his Butt Monkeys. No other Dementors left the island. They're either still here, or destroyed in the blast. And apparently not following Voldieburger this time."

"Can you track them?" said Croaker, jumping at the hope.

"I've already got a team following their trail. Hopefully, we'll have them contained by lunch."

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISCENE BREAKIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

_Same Day _

_An Abandoned Country Church In Wales_

_Sometime Before Lunch_

The First, the leader of the surviving Dementors, pushed the rotted door of the stone building that had called to him. The other Dementors filtered into the large room, taking in the broken pews, the shattered windows, and the crucifix hanging crookedly from the wall above a debris-covered altar. This would do for a place to rest.

Two masked individuals, Nightshade and Snake, watched from the shadows. Once the last Dementor entered the church, Snake signalled a spectral form hidden near the doors.

The First spun at the sound of the slamming doors, and saw, as the bar slid into place, the ghostly form of The Creator hovering by the door, spectral sword drawn. A voice, almost corroded from disuse, emanated from the phantom.

"Foul demons, my eternal shame. Your existence binds me to this world, prevents my peaceful rest. Your taint shall be cleansed."

With that, Nightshade activated a specially-crafted ward that, along with the Lure Ward keyed to the Dementors, she and Snake had thrown up in the last hour.

Large scale weather modification was a magical fiction. Even Merlin would not have had the power to summon storms in a clear sky, or bring water in a drought.

Weather Modifying Wards, however- designed for climate control in a greenhouse-

-now those were possible.

A downpour drenched the demons, but confused them as well. Water alone could not harm them.

Then they heard chanting.

Turning toward the damaged altar, they beheld a ghostly Friar holding a prayer book and chanting, crossing himself several times, as he looked upward at the source of the rain.

Rain was, after all, just water.

And water blessed became Holy Water.

And even the Muggles knew what happened when you struck a demon or undead with Holy Water.

As the water sanctified in midair, the Dementors shrieked as it ate their tattered flesh like acid. As his fellows fell, never to stir again, the First rushed toward their Creator, to avenge this Betrayal by he who Created them.

A ghostly sword pierced his face for his trouble.

As the last Dementor finally stilled, the Friar stopped chanting and Nightshade de-activated the rainfall. As the four figures, two living, two ghosts, met in the middle, the Creator was lit from above by a white light, his ghostly chains falling away.

Looking up into the light, the specter's face cracked into its first smile since his death. "It is time. My foul creations are no more. My penance is done. I am free."

The Fat Friar, Hufflepuff House Ghost, nodded to his spectral friend. "Go with God, Tamon. You have awaited this moment for far too long."

Tamon Gaunt, Slytherin's own Bloody Baron, nodded, and slowly faded from sight, never to walk amongst the living again.

CHAPTER END


	27. Valley of the Giants

**Taking Charge**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 27: Valley of the Giants

_2 May 1992_

_An Uncharted Valley in the Pyrenees_

_Just after Dawn_

Pierre Delacour, Professor of History at Beauxbatons, stood next to his older brother Jean-Claude Delacour, Deputy Minister of Foreign Relations in the French Ministry of Magic, and Manuel Costas, his counterpart in the Spanish Ministry, as well as an unusual diplomatic guest- Karkus, the Gurg (Chief) of the remaining Giants in the Eastern Hemisphere. The three humans and one Giant looked out over a lush valley that had been disputed by the two nations for years- and as a result uninhabited. Pierre's brother-in-law, Nall Glyphs, with support of the British ICW delegate Horace Slughorn, had proposed a use that would solve some simmering problems on the international stage.

Simply put, both Spain and France would give up their claims to this Valley and place it under ICW jurisdiction. The ICW, in turn, would move the remaining colony of Giants from the Urals to this much-more-fertile Valley, allowing them a chance to live as they chose.

People thought the Giants were a naturally-violent race. The fact is, being twenty-five feet tall tended to make one claustrophobic in even the best circumstances. Giants weren't city dwellers- they were shepherds and farmers by nature, used to living outside with their livestock, and plenty of room to move. Looking out over the valley, Pierre turned to the Giant, and asked, So, Karkus, does this Valley meet with your approval?

Karkus, smiling at the first Human he'd met that had bothered to learn the Giant tongue, replied, Yes, friend. This will give us room. If we may have sheep and cows to begin our herds, we will be able to live our lives separate from you, as we both want.

Pierre nodded, then turned to the politicos and translated Karkus's words. And, with a mirror-call by Jean-Claude to his subordinates at the old preserve, industrial-strength international Portkeys started materializing around them, delivering over a hundred Giants who gazed in awe at their new home. Karkus, hereafter known as Karkus the Negotiator, would rule unchallenged for years, and be a legendary leader in the eyes of the Giants.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIISCENE BREAKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

_10 May 1992_

_Somewhere in the Urals_

_Around Lunchtime_

Tom Riddle was not a happy Dark Lord.

After the fiasco of their attempted prison break went horribly awry, Riddle and his surviving minion Antonin Dolohov had barely escaped the Auror sweep trying to round them up. Moving through the shadows, they had made it to the Dolohov house- a small three bedroom cottage under a Fidelius Charm- and taken time to lick their wounds and re-arm from the Mad Russian's stockpile.

Both men now carried three wands apiece, along with other talismans and supplies. After they had recovered, they had gone looking for supporters.

Lucius Malfoy and George Goyle, having attacked their former master and lived to tell the tale, made going to the old Death Eater circle a gamble at best. Riddle had decided to get backing from the other Dark Creatures first, so he could 'negotiate' from a position of strength.

The Vampires had laughed in his face and chased him off. They had no desire to rule, nor to be cannon-fodder for a madman's megalomania. The half-dozen werewolves they had found joined up, but told the Dark Lord of Greyback's death and the relocation of the majority of Weres to a place called Hunter's Claw Sanctuary. One had also shown the Dark Lord the front page of the Prophet declaring the extinction of the Dementors. Interrogating his new allies, he got caught up on many of the new developments in the past few months since his exorcism from Quirrell's body.

This Samuel Glyphs character would have been an ideal candidate for his mysterious foe, if not for the fact that he'd been dead most of the intervening time. A muggleborn Heir of Slytherin, the LeStranges having a hidden daughter who was raised Muggle- so many confusing and shocking revelations in recent months that Tom was still trying to absorb them all.

The Blood-Purist groups in continental Europe would have nothing to do with him until he proved himself- topple the Ministry, assassinate Dumbledore, something truly impressive.

Crossing the Ural Mountains, Riddle, Dolohov and their half-dozen werewolf 'sherpas' were approaching one of Riddle's last hopes for support- the Giant preserve. With their muscle at his back, he could cut a swath through the Wizarding World. Coming over the last rise, Riddle raised his sweaty head, and gazed upon-

-nothing.

No Giants in sight. The signs that they had been here were plenty, but the Giants themselves were gone-

-except one.

A lone Giant sat tending a roasting- something- over a campfire, his club leaning against the rocks behind him.

Seeking answers, Riddle cast an English-to-Giant translation charm on himself and strolled over to the Giant left behind.

The Giant, named Golgomath, was happy to tell Riddle of his abandonment by the 'weak, peace-loving' Giants who moved somewhere they could be farmers.

Things just kept getting worse for Tom Marvolo Riddle.

CHAPTER END


	28. The Gathering Storm

**Taking Charge**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 28: The Gathering Storm

_26 May 1992_

_A coastal town in East England_

_The darkest time of night_

Tom Marvolo Riddle, the man who would be Dark Lord, looked back at the handful of followers he had left. Antonin Dolohov had been joined by two other loyal Death Eaters, Derwent Yaxley and Jason Gibbon, as well as a former Ministry employee, Dolores Umbridge, all of whom had fled when the traitor Malfoy started naming names of Death Eaters. Umbridge, who had taken bribes from Nott to make certain evidence go away, escaped ahead of the purge, and volunteered her services to the Dark Lord who championed her belief of Pureblood Supremacy. Behind them came a half-dozen of the more agressive werewolves in Britain, led by a were named Cyrus 'The Virus' Redblock, another serial killer and former cellmate of Greyback's. Bringing up the rear was Golgomath, the only giant willing to join the Dark Lord's forces.

That was it. That was all he had left.

He was here to pick up the only untapped force he had left-

-Inferi.

Specifically, a whole lake of Inferi he had placed to protect his Locket Horcrux. With the Locket gone, however, it made little sense to keep them in place protecting nothing.

And if he was going to plan an attack, he needed bodies to throw at his enemies. Under the guidance of his few sentient followers, they would get the job done.

They had to get started. Inferi moved slowly even if you didn't care who saw them. Staying hidden would take them even longer to reach his destination-

-Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry.

IIIIIIIIIIIISCENE BREAKIIIIIIIIIIII

_21 June 1992_

_Stonehenge (The Real, Undamaged One)_

_Just before High Noon_

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, was unaware of the Dark Army slowly making its way up the coast to his school. Considering that most of his students had departed on the train for Summer Break the day before, he had little reason to be concerned- the students were gone, as was most of the faculty. Samuel's spirit was watching over the school and had enough control to hold off an attack. No, his mind was far more engaged by what was happening before him.

Having heard stories of ancient purifying rituals, Albus was slightly disappointed by the absence of a spectacular light show or elaborate music and dance. Five goblin Curse-Breakers stood chanting at the points of a pentagram etched in the ground around the central altar, upon which lay the Diadem of Ravenclaw.

Standing alongside Albus, holding the Chalice of Hufflepuff in a lead-glass box, was its most recent owner, Hermione Granger, born Hermione LeStrange. When her uncle had rescinded all claims to the family vault and turned over his key to her, Albus and several Curse-Breakers had accompanied her first venture into the vault. The Chalice, identified as a Horcrux of Voldemort, had been one of the cursed objects removed. With Hermione were her adoptive Muggle parents, as well as her blood family- Aunt Andromeda with her husband Ted and daughter Nymphadora, Aunt Narcissa with her husband Lucius and son Draco, and her mother's cousins Sirius Black and (more distantly) Harry Potter.

She and Harry had worked it out that they were something along the lines of third cousins once removed. Draco, after a rocky start, had turned out to be a halfway-decent human being, particularly when learning the 'uppity Mudblood' he'd been insulting was his cousin. It had led to him reassessing his beliefs, particularly whether anything he believed had basis in fact. Once you stripped away the bigotry and anger, Draco was a fairly intelligent young man- but that seemed to be a trait from the Black Sisters, all of whom were intelligent women. Dora Tonks was intelligent and fun-loving, the kind of cousin capable of showing Hermione she could be driven while still taking time to have fun. Aunt Narcissa had started teaching her the traditions and social mores she would at least need to be aware of as the daughter of an Ancient and Noble House, while Uncle Ted, a fellow 'Muggleborn', had taken her adoptive parents under his wing to teach them about the wizarding world. Uncle Lucius, always a vain man, had been intrigued when Daniel Granger had explained 'tooth-whitening' to him. He had an appointment with the dentist next week- family discount, of course.

As the sun reached its zenith, the chanting reached a crescendo and the diadem was engulfed in white light. Just like that, it was over. With a few quick spells, the Curse-breakers confirmed that both the Chalice and the Diadem were stripped of the Horcrux magic, but their older, more innate magic was intact. Both artifacts were on their way to Hogwarts for display in the Trophy Room.

It was almost over. Tom Marvolo Riddle, he who would be Dark Lord, was mortal once more.

IIIIIIIIIIIIISCENE BREAKIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

_Roughly the same time_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Tom Marvolo Riddle made his way alone through a cave in the Forbidden Forest, a cave which led toward the Castle of Hogwarts- more specifically to a certain hidden door deep underground. He had need of one last thing before the attack began. Soon, Riddle stood before the ornate round door and spoke in Parseltongue.

_"Open."_

Elsewhere in the castle, a portrait stopped what he was doing and cocked his head, as if listening to a voice only he could hear. A grim visage descended, and a cavalry saber was drawn from his hip as he marched out the edge of the painting he was currently in, headed for a certain frame.

"It has begun."

CHAPTER END


	29. Oh, Dear Lord, He's Monologuing

**Taking Charge**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 29: Oh Dear Lord, He's Monologuing...

_2i June 1992_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Shortly After the Previous Chapter_

Dolores Jane Umbridge looked around and sighed. She was beginning to wonder about her decision to align herself with the former Dark Lord. True, his goals aligned with hers- utter destruction to any non-Pureblood who didn't bow down to him- but this ragtag army she found herself in gave her the creepy crawlies.

Inferi, the bulk of his force, would make anyone uncomfortable. Add to that a wizard-hating giant, a half-dozen psychotic werewolves, and the tattered remnants of the once-mighty Death Eaters, and Dolores had some idea that she was essentially wand-fodder to this madman.

Organizing her Inferi battalion with the help of her assigned werewolf lieutenant, she turned and, on 'Field Marshall' Dolohov's command, began the march toward Hogwarts. A bright spot on the battlements caught her eye, quickly becoming larger. She barely had time to register that the incoming fireball was a threat to her before her life exploded in fire and pain.

IIIIIIIIIIIISCENE BREAKIIIIIIIIIIII

Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington hovered at the battlements, field glass in hand, sighting on the fireball at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

"Direct hit, lads! Well done indeed!"

Nearby, several animated terra cotta warriors went about reloading the ancient catapult perched on the tower and aimed toward the forest.

Sir Nicholas sighted on the next target, another human officer in the inferi army. "Target bearing one-one-six, range five hundred twenty yards." He waited for the sounds of catapult movement to cease, then called out, "FIRE!"

A second fireball, aimed at Derwent Yaxley, screamed through the air.

IIIIIIIIIIIISCENE BREAKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Tom Riddle emerged into the halls of Hogwarts to near-silence, the giant basilisk slithering out the bathroom behind him. He knew where the Ward-Room was, and was counting on the snake's brute force and his own formidable magic to force entry and take control of the castle's defenses.

The he heard the clapping.

Slow, deliberate clapping.

Looking around, Tom noticed all the portraits in the hall were empty.

Except one.

A vaguely-familiar man in an unfamiliar uniform stood clapping in the landscape painting directly across from the bathroom. Neither Tom nor his serpent noticed as the bathroom door seemed to melt back into the stone.

The figure spoke in a Yank accent, "Gotta hand it to ya, Tommy, you made this easier than I thought it would be. I never expected you to just waltz into an empty castle, particularly one you had no control over."

A muffled boom outside diverted Tom's attention, allowing the other end of the hall to seal in stone unnoticed.

"What was that?"

"That would be the parapet defenses, under Sir Nicholas's command, throwing big-ass fireballs into your mostly-undead army. They're already losing massive numbers. Ghosts make good officers, don't you think? Can't be taken out by the enemy, since they're already dead, and intelligent enough to give competent orders to the terra cotta warriors."

With that, Samuel Glyphs stepped out the side of his portrait, and the terra cotta standing at attention next to it... _changed._

Distracted by the shifting statue, he again missed the open end of the hall sealing off.

He was walled in.

The warrior, now in the form of Samuel Glyphs in full Marine combat gear, hefted a silvery, ruby-studded sword in his hands. "Ah, that's better. Been a while since I walked free, I'm glad I've figured out how to do that."

The basilisk hissed. Glyphs turned, looked it in the eye...

...and didn't even flinch. "Nice snake, Tommy. You grow that yourself, or is that the one Old Sal left in the basement to defend the school?"

"How...?"

"Oh, why am I not keeling over after looking it in the eye? This body was never truly alive, so it can't die, and it's already stone, so it can't be petrified. As to how I'm doing this when I've been dead for months? Funny story, that..."

Samuel kept both Dark Lord and Basilisk focused on him while several dozen terra cottas melted out of the wall behind them.

"See, when I tore down and rebuilt the wards here at Hogwarts, I put a little too much of myself into them. I didn't just pump in my magic and the magic of the others feeding into me, inadvertently...

"...I pumped in my very soul."

"Hogwarts welcomed me. My unselfish sacrifice, made by my determination to protect her children at all costs, led to her opening her heart to me. See, the castle has always been alive and aware to some degree, but she was never truly sentient...

"...until she bonded with me."

Riddle's eyes widened as the stone form of a dead man smirked at him.

"In a very real sense now, Tommy, I AM Hogwarts. I control not only the wards, but the castle itself. Which leads to the biggest mistake you made in choosing to try and take over this castle."

Stone weapons scraping from scabbards drew Riddle's attention to the fact that he and his Basilisk were now surrounded. Glyphs now stood, sword at the ready, and smirked again.

"You're in _my _house now, _bitch."_

IIIIIIIIIIIIISCENE BREAKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Albus Dumbledore ran through the Halls of Hogwarts as if the devil himself was behind him. The alarms had screamed at him an hour ago, stating the castle was under attack. His first move, upon emerging from the Floo, was to check one of his instruments which showed him the disturbance near the second floor girl's loo. He turned the corner...

...and stopped at the strangest sight he'd seen in years.

Several of the school's terra cotta statues, now moving, were carving up the corpse of a freaking HUGE serpent that lay in the hall, under the direction of a familiar, if stony, form.

"Samuel?"

The living statue turned and smiled at the Headmaster. "Hey Uncle Al. What kept you? You missed the fun part."

"How...?"

"Long story, Uncle Al. But first, you need to see this."

The stone Marine led the Headmaster over to where a pair of terra cottas stood guard over a body. Albus was shocked to see the carved-up corpse of Tom Marvolo Riddle laying there.

"He came here?"

"Yeah, some grand scheme to take over the castle and kill you. Unfortunately for him, he didn't realize the castle itself could fight back now."

Albus looked, shocked, at the stone form of his dead nephew, who smirked in reply.

"Only God can judge him, Uncle Al. All I did was arrange the court date."

CHAPTER END

A/N: Only an epilogue yet to go...


	30. Epilogue

**Taking Charge**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

A/N: Well, here it is. The final chapter. I want to thank all my readers and reviewers for following this story, but especially TheresaLynne and Dracarot, who gave me food for thought that helped me past occasional roadblocks in my story.

Chapter 30: Epilogue

_23 March 2000_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Midafternoon_

Minerva McGonagall stood outside her Transfiguration classroom, watching her apprentice teach the first year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs how to transfigure water into milk. Hermione Granger was a born teacher, good at communicating information in a fun manner that helped even the slowest students catch on quickly. This coming June, the young woman would be taking both her Mastery exam and her wedding vows, officially becoming Mrs. Hermione Potter. She had insisted, however, that she would remain Professor Granger professionally to avoid the confusion of two Professor Potters.

Harry Potter had, with Hermione's encouragement, developed a skill and passion few knew he had- music. Harry had been a prodigy at the violin, and quite talented a singer. He also picked up instruments with a speed and skill that was a little frightening. He had started this past September as the teacher for Magical Music and Dance when the previous instructor, Professor Warbeck, had stepped down. By that time, Harry was sought after as a musician in both Magical and Muggle Europe, not because he was the Boy-Who-Lived, but because he was just that good. If memory served, Harry should be holding individual lessons for some of the fourth years during this period.

Jogging past Minerva were the sixth year students, led by Ravenclaw's Quidditch captain Ophelia Malfoy and her Gryffindor boyfriend, Dennis Creevey. Albus had managed to find a squib by the name of Thomas Dobbs who had recently retired from Her Majesty's Army as a Drill Sergeant. He had had little difficulty talking the man into putting together a Physical Education program for Hogwarts. With that fitness came increased alertness, mental acuity, and energy levels, and students were improving in all classes, something the entire faculty enjoyed.

Turning to walk down the hall, Minerva drank in the heady sounds of children laughing and learning. _This _was why she became a teacher, the joy of passing knowledge to the next generation. She was so glad to see Albus become once more the great educator he once was, thanks to the extraordinary events of the 1991-92 school year.

This coming year would see a few old faces departing, and new ones taking their place. Colette Delacour, having completed her Master's thesis in Potions by inventing a Potions regimen that had brought Frank and Alice Longbottom out of their comas, would be taking charge of the Potions classes when her mentor, Nicholas Flamel, retired this year. Neville Longbottom had also completed his Mastery exam in Herbology, and would be taking over the courses currently taught by Pomona Sprout when she left in June for her trip to the Amazon basin to study its native magical flora. Nalshay Glyphs would be stepping down from his instructor role in Magical Law and Government and be replaced by his protege, Draco Malfoy.

Minerva snorted at that one. Draco Malfoy had seemed like a Junior-Death-Eater-in-training when he started as a student in 1991, but several wake-up calls that year had changed his entire outlook on life. The final blow to any Pureblood dogma had been when he had met his Muggleborn girlfriend's father. Colonel Lionel de Wolffe had invited the then-fourteen-year-old boy to a weapons demonstration at the British Army base near Nottingham, where Draco saw first-hand the capabilities of a disciplined Muggle Army. His discussions in the Slytherin common room of what he had seen had convinced any lingering Death Eater sympathizers that war with the Muggles was suicide for the wizards.

Minerva arrived at the gargoyle which guarded Dumbledore's office. The gargoyle moved automatically, as Dumbledore, the past three years, had had an open-door policy with the staff, prefects, and Head students, telling the gargoyle that they were to be automatically admitted anytime he was in his office and not in a meeting.

Arriving in Albus's office, Minerva smiled at the laughter within as Albus and the portrait of Samuel Glyphs joked while Albus plowed through the mountain of parchmentwork that went with running a school of this size- but not so much that he stayed in his tower full-time like he once did. Indeed, if one of his teachers was ill or unavailable one day, Albus was usually the first in line for substitute teaching. He so enjoyed being among the students, and helping shape those young minds was adding years to his life.

Which is why Minerva was still having trouble with understanding why he was stepping down and retiring.

Samuel looked over from his portrait and saw his old friend. "Hey, Min!" he greeted. "What brings you to the ivory tower of academia today?"

Minerva playfully scowled at the old professor. "Scamp. If you still had a body, I'd take you over my knee."

"Promises, promises, Min."

Albus chuckled at the banter between the two. He knew, with Samuel taking charge of the building itself and Minerva running the education side, that he was leaving the school in good hands. Hogwarts had once more become what it always claimed to be- the finest school of wizardry in the world. Now was the time to take what time he had left and fulfill a childhood dream- seeing the world. He had been granted an audience with the Lama of Shangri-La in September- a great honour, as he seldom spoke to those outside his hidden city. From there, he would go where the wind took him.

"The new incoming class, Minerva?"

"Yes, Albus. Eighty-five students starting this year- the largest intake class I've seen in decades."

"That's because the rest of Europe finally agrees that we're simply the best, Min. I'll bet a good chunk of those students are from outside Britain."

Minerva flushed. Samuel was right- nearly a third of the incoming first years were from the Continent- and one was even from a wealthy Muggle family in America! Hogwarts had finally started attracting foreign students again in the last five years thanks to the revised curriculum and expanded electives.

"Eighty-five, hmmm? Any Esper-positives, Minerva?"

"Only one, Albus- a girl for Italy named Michelle Marcella."

Six years ago, at Firenze's suggestion, Divination had been taken off the Electives list. Instead, incoming students were given a test, invented in Brazil, that determined whether a witch or wizard had any Divination-related gifts- Seer, Prophet, and so on. Those that tested positive were given individualized instruction by the palomino centaur in how best to access and interpret their gifts. Minerva had whole heartedly approved the change, as most of the students signing up for Divination had been giggly gossip girls or boys looking for an easy grade.

"Well, I am sure you know the procedures better than I at this point, Minerva. I just know I'll be leaving the school in good hands."

"You'll be back, Uncle Al," Samuel piped up, "Maybe not as a teacher, but this castle has been your home for too many years for you not to visit. Don't worry, we'll keep the home fires burning."

"Well," Minerva stated, "I have visitations to schedule. Thirteen of our intake domestically are Muggle-born- I have to meet with their families over the next few weekends."

"Have you chosen your new Deputy, Minerva?"

"Lawrence has consented to take the position when you retire and I step up to Headmistress, Albus. He's a good man."

"I have no doubt, Minerva. I just want this change-over of power to go smoothly. You still need to choose your new Heads of House for Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. You might also want to line up replacements for Ravenclaw and Slytherin- both Filius and Aurora are considering retirement in the next few years."

"Merlin, that's just what I need- four brand-new Heads of House at the same time."

"Exactly the argument I used when I talked them both out of retiring _this _year."

"And I thank you for that, Albus. Now, I shall leave the list here for you to peruse, and get on with my duties."

With that, Minerva walked out of the Headmaster's office, secure in the knowledge that she would do her old mentor proud when he had her take charge of his school.

STORY END


End file.
